


This Love Cuts Like a Knife

by TVandTalkies



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Clarke has trust issues because... Have you met Clarke Griffin?, Competition, Cooking, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Flirting to Friends to Something More, Fluff and Angst, Lexa is tough but she is also the softest of the soft beans, Raven is smol but fiesty, Roan is a good bro, Slow Burn, Top Chef AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-10 20:31:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 107,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13509249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TVandTalkies/pseuds/TVandTalkies
Summary: The 100/ Top Chef AU that no one asked for. Clarke and Lexa are world-class chefs and fierce competitors. There's no room for love in the world of Top Chef, or is there?





	1. Episode 1: First Impressions (Quickfire)

Clarke was already sweating under the heat of the lights. A sparkling new kitchen sprawled in front of her. She was surrounded by some of the best chefs in the country. Some of them she knew very well and others she knew only by reputation. She had been ecstatic when she made it on the show and wanted to perform well. Needed to perform well. This show might very well be make or break for her restaurant. She knew she was a skilled chef, but there was a difference between being great and being better than everyone else. Voices chirped around her, the other contestants introducing themselves to one another. 

Then everything slowed down when Padma and Tom entered the kitchen. "Welcome to Top Chef: Houston,"says Padma. Everyone around Clarke cheers and someone behind her gives her an overly enthusiastic pat on the shoulder.

Tom smiles towards the group. "For the next few weeks," he begins, "you'll be competing head-to-head for the title of Top Chef. Many amazing chefs have come through our kitchen and I expect this season will be no different. I look forward to working with all of you and eating some delicious food."

"You may notice something a little different about this season," says Padma. "Because this is Texas and Texas is all about family, we decided to let you bring yours along. Well, your work family that is."

Clarke links her arm through Octavia's and then Bellamy's. She's glad they'll get to share this experience together. The Blake siblings drive her a bit nuts at times, but they are both excellent cooks and have her back. She is counting on them the same way they are counting on her. They are her family in every way except blood.

Padma continues, "If you'll please separate into your crews, one behind each table, I'll introduce you to each other." Clarke and her team move behind an open work station at the very end of the room and wait to be called on.

Padma points to the table furthest from Clarke. "Our first crew hails from right here in Houston. Monty, Jasper, and Raven were once all in the astronaut training program at NASA and have been working together at their midtown restaurant, Zero-G, for five years."

Clarke looks them over. Monty looks friendly enough. Jasper looks high as a kite. But it's Raven that Clarke is most interested in. Clarke met Raven at a culinary expo a few years ago. Raven has a reputation for being temperamental in the kitchen but is also a genius where molecular gastronomy is concerned. It's a well known fact in the industry that all of Raven's dishes are either magnificent or catastrophes. Raven seems to enjoy both outcomes equally.

"Our second crew is joining us all the way from Anchorage, Alaska. You may recognize Roan as the son of Nia Cold, famous CEO and author. Roan was voted Food and Wine Magazine's "Best in the West" two years in a row and was runner-up for the James Beard award two times. He's joined by his right hands Echo and Ontari. Please welcome the chefs from Ice Nation."

Everyone claps politely and Clarke locks eyes with Roan. There's something about Ice Nation that's almost feral in appearance. Maybe it's their high cheekbones or cool stares, but Clarke wouldn't want to run into any of them out in the wilderness.

"Our third crew has traveled across the country together for the last four years opening pop-up restaurants. They never settle down and they never settle. Please welcome Murphy, Emori, and Maya from Nomads."

Clarke claps loudly for this group. Clarke has known Murphy and Emori for years and helped them do their first pop-up right next to her restaurant years ago. She's glad to see that things are still going well for them. She heard that Murphy and Emori got married a year or two ago. She was going to have to buy them a drink to celebrate and find some time to catch up.

"Our next team may not need much of an introduction," Padma begins. "Grounders has become an institution in farm to table dining in the Napa Valley. Lead by Lexa Woods, and joined by her cousins, Anya and Lincoln, they are known for their classic french techniques and perfect plating. And, lest we forget, each of these chefs has won a James Beard award."

Clarke took in Lexa's profile. Of course she had heard of Lexa Woods and the Grounders empire. Their restaurant was only about thirty minutes from hers. She'd eaten there multiple times and it had been an ethereal experience each time. Each of the grounders had their own techniques and styles, but they balanced each other well. Lexa cut a striking picture in her white chef's coat. Her hair up in braids, out of her face. Her lips pressed firmly together. Arms crossed. In the kitchen she wasn't called "chef." She was called "commander" because of her military precision. Clarke could see why. They were going to be a formidable team to beat.

"Our last crew joins us from San Francisco. Clarke Griffin and the Blake siblings, Octavia and Bellamy, are known for their bold flavor profiles and warm comfort food. Their restaurant, The Ark, was recently voted the best restaurant in San Francisco and the Napa Valley, and Clarke was recently nominated for a James Beard award."

Behind her, Bellamy whooped and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. They had gotten the call about the James Beard nomination just days before packing up and heading to Houston. Clarke still thought it might be a dream. 

Clarke bows her head in slight embarrassment at Bellamy's display, cheeks tinged with red. When she looks up, she's met with the piercing stare of Lexa Woods. Lexa's gaze was firm and there was something more behind it. Interest, maybe. Judgement... definitely. It was no secret that Lexa is a competitive person. Grounders had won the title of best restaurant four years in a row before Clarke and The Ark crew took it. Clarke is sure that this competition has just become personal. She doesn't break eye contact with Lexa. 

Fine. If Lexa wanted a competition. It was on. 

Lexa smiles wickedly at Clarke, pouty lips turned up into a smirk and then she gracefully turns back to Padma.

Tom gestures to the crews, "Now that introductions are over, it's time get down to cooking. Before we get to see what you all can do as individuals, we want to see what you can do as a team. Please open the basket next to your table."

Bellamy leans over and opens the basket. "Shit," he murmurs. "Clarke, it's our short ribs."

Clarke's head snaps down to the basket, "What?!" She looks at the pile of ingredients before her and immediately recognizes the most popular item on their menu. It's her signature dish. It takes two days to make and she's pretty sure she's not going to get that much time.

"Everyone understand what's going on for our first quickfire?" Padma calls out. "The baskets in front of you contain some of the most popular dishes from your individual restaurants. They usually take days to get ready and are some of the finest dishes Tom and I have ever had the pleasure of sampling."

Tom chuckles, rubbing his hands together. The studio lights bounce of of his head. Clarke can tell he's enjoying this just a little too much. "It may take you days to make this at home," he starts. "But we don't have that kind of time on Top Chef. The challenge for you and your crew is to make us a version of your restaurant dish in just forty-five minutes."

Clarke sees Lexa cock her head to the side and widen her stance just a little at the table next to her. Energy is radiating off of her, green eyes already scanning the kitchen for useful supplies, and Clarke understands. Lexa is gone. This is the Commander. And she is breathtaking.

"Time starts... now!" Padma yells. Clarke doesn't move at first. She's still watching Lexa. While the other teams started running, Roan yelling at Ontari and Echo to start with knife work and Murphy telling Emori to get the grill going, Lexa doesn't move. She waits just a moment, looks over at Lincoln, tilts her head to the produce, then she turns to Anya and nods towards the pots and pans. They both nod in acknowledgement and take off. Not a single word spoken between them. Lexa moves away from the table, turns towards Clarke and winks. "Better get moving," she says. 

Clarke blinks, trance broken. She turns to Bellamy and Octavia. "Ok. We obviously don't have time to do our usual dish."

"No shit, princess," Bellamy says.

"Shut up, Bell and listen," snaps Octavia. "Go ahead Clarke," she nods.

Clarke nods her thanks, "Ok. I was thinking we'd do a street taco version of our dish. Bell, you are on meats. Take those ribs off the bone, get them on the grill with a coffee rub. Make them as tender and flavorful as possible in forty five minutes. And get those bones on the stove for a broth."

"Got it," he says and takes off running. 

"Octavia," Clarke says taking her shoulder. "You're on tortilla duty."

"Fuck."

Clarke pats her on the back. "I know it sucks. Just do the best you can. I need two absolutely perfect flour tortillas. I'll handle everything else."

Octavia leans back, throws her a cocky little salute, "Aye, aye, captain," and runs off towards the dry goods.

It's just Clarke now. It's chaos around her, but she takes a moment to center herself. Breathes in and then out. "It's go time."

And she's off. She heads first to gather all of the bowls she'll need. Their short ribs have a lot of slicing and dicing components and she hopes she can get it all done in time. Next she heads to the produce. She leans over to snag a lime and grabs a wrist instead. She looks up to see Lexa looking right at her. 

"Trying to take all the limes, Griffin?" Lexa smirks.

Clarke lets go of her wrist, wiping her hand on her chefs coat. "Of course not. I just didn't want you to think you got here first."

"Oh, I didn't get here first, Griffin but I do plan on finishing first," she grabs a lime. "See you later neighbor." Then she's gone.

Clarke snags her produce and heads back to her work station joining Octavia. "Everything good over here?" Octavia is elbows deep in a large bowl prepping the tortilla mixture. She's got a little batter right on the end of her nose, but Clarke knows better than to tell her. A pissed Octavia is a dangerous Octavia. Bellamy has a two inch scar on his leg to prove it. Octavia swears cutting him was an accident, but Clarke has never been completely sure. She starts lining up her produce right away.

Octavia growls, "Fine. I hate you, I hate Texas, and I hate tortillas, but it's fine. This is fine. Oh, and Reyes is a nut job."

"Who?" says Clarke.

Octavia jerks her head to the left, "Raven Reyes. She's the leader of Zero-G? Remember? Feisty latina. Great ass?"

"Oh, right," says Clarke as she starts dicing onions and habaneros. "I remember now. I mean, I don't remember her great ass, but I know her."

Octavia grunts, "It's an ass worth remembering, Clarke. Anyway, she's nuts."

Clarke laughs, "I'm sure it is, O, but can we not get kicked off the show for sexual harassment ten minutes into the competition? Remember," Clarke points at her chest, "we're wearing mics."

Octavia shrugs. "Hey, never let it be said that I'm not an equal opportunity oggler. Did you see that guy, Lincoln? That guy is smoking hot. I've eaten some of his food and it's orgasmic. After seeing him I'd be willing to let him give me a different kid of heavenly experience."

At this, Clarke rolls her eyes. This was classic Octavia. Octavia was an incredibly talented chef but sometimes got a little distracted, but as long as she continued to produce top quality food and put up with her brother, Clarke doesn't have a problem with that. Clarke has been friends with the Blakes for almost a decade at this point. They'd had fights along the way, but they were family. There wasn't anything Clarke could ever see tearing them apart and she was grateful to them as well. They had always believed in her and pushed her hard even when she'd resisted. If Clarke was the heart and brain of their team, the Blakes were her right and left fist. And they packed a punch. 

"Time?!" yelled Raven from across the room. Clarke looked up and felt her eyebrows raise.

"Is that an actual blow torch?" she asked incredulously. The tiny brunette appeared to be flambeing something in a cast iron skillet. Raven's two team members didn't even look up from their workstations. Apparently lighting things on fire in close quarters was standard operating procedure for the Zero-G chefs.

"Nine minutes left!" someone yelled.

"Told you," Octavia chuckled. "She's crazy. Hot, but crazy." Octavia was busy getting the tortillas ready. "Bell," she yelled across the kitchen as she rolled her dough out.

"Yeah, O?" he called back never lifting his head from the burner where their short ribs were cooking. 

"Get a skillet ready for me. I'm heading your way in thirty seconds." Octavia finished rolling out six round disks of dough. "Need anything before I head over there?" she asked Clarke.

Clarke shook her head. "I've got this. Just tell your brother not to overcook the meat. We need this to be as tender as possible since we didn't have time to use a pressure cooker."

Octavia nodded and took off. Clarke refocused her energy on their dish. Her contribution was arguably the most important part. Bellamy was handling the meat, Octavia the tortillas, but Clarke was in charge of building the flavors. She wanted something that packed a punch, spicy, smoke, with just a little sweetness and a kick at the end. She tasted her salsa. It was missing something but she didn't know what. Bellamy came over to their station and began setting plates out. The meat was resting on their board. Clarke took a tasting spoon out, snagged a dollop of salsa, "taste this she said."

Bellamy obliged, sticking the spoon in his mouth. "Mmmmmmmm," he said. "Clarke, that tastes amazing." 

She furrowed her brow, shook her head," No, it's missing something, Bellamy. I just don't know what."

Padma walked back into the kitchen with Tom. "Two minutes, chefs."

Octavia ran over, a plate of tortillas in her hands. "Are these going to work?"

Clarke inspected the tortillas. She chose the two that looked the most similar to each other in color and thickness and nodded to Octavia. "Good work, O. Start plating with Bellamy. Get everything ready to go. I'm going back to the pantry. I'm missing something for the salsa."

"Clarke," Octavia gestured to the digital clock counting down behind them. "I don't think you have time for that."

Clarke looked at the clock and then surveyed the room. Everyone was running around like crazy except for the crew from Grounders. They were all working together to assemble their dish. Lexa was currently engrossed in perfectly saucing the plate. Clarke studied her for just a moment and longed to be as confident and composed as the other chef. As if reading her mind, Lexa looked up, making direct eye contact with Clarke and smirked. 

Clarke didn't know why that smirk sat so heavily in her chest but it did. Lexa wasn't a better chef than she was and Clarke was going to prove it. She was going to wipe that stupid smirk right off her face. "Hold the line, O," she said and took off. She ran through the pantry. 

"Think. Think," she said. What was she looking for. The dish had everything, but it was missing that final zinger at the end to finish it off. It needed something to play off of the acid and bring out the spiciness of the habaneros. Clarke saw a bottle on the bottom shelf and her eyes lit up. She grabbed it and ran back to Octavia and Bellamy. 

"Forty-five seconds," said Bellamy, his brow covered in sweat. 

"I got it," responded Clarke. She took the cap off threw a hit into the salsa, and stirred the bowl."

"Fifteen seconds, Clarke," Octavia whined. "Hurry."

Clarke slid a generous dollop of salsa across the top of the tacos and hit them with a squeeze of lime. She nodded and Bellamy took the plates off the table and moved them onto the judges box just as Padma yelled "time!"

Clarke breathed a huge sigh and then turned to her team. Their smiles matched hers and they quickly embraced. They had made it. Now, they waited. 

Padma and Tom made their way through the room commenting on one dish after another, asking questions as they went. Clarke really couldn't hear what they were saying to the other contestants, but her nerves were starting to get the best of her. When Tom and Padma got to the Grounders, Tom took two bites and smiled. He asked a few questions which Lexa answered and then he reached over to shake her hand. 

"Fuck," Clarke mumbled to herself. 

Padma and Tom walked up to their station, eyed their humble tacos. Tom raised his eyebrows, "Whose idea was it to do tacos?"

Clarke cleared her throat and tried to sound more confident than she felt, "Me, chef. It was my idea." Tom nodded and he and Padma sampled the tacos. After a bite or two they set them down.

Tom wiped his mouth with a napkin, "and who made the salsa?," He pointed at the plate.

Clarkes stomach dropped. "It was me," she answered. "I made the salsa."

Tom nodded again and smiled, eyes crinkling around the edges, "Nice use of Tequila, Griffin."

Clarke's jaw dropped. "Uh, thanks" she stammered. "Thanks, chef. I wasn't sure about using it. I'm glad you liked it."

Padma and Tom walked back to the center of the room as the Blakes gave her congratulatory pats on the back. She was on cloud nine. 

"Ok," Tom began. "There were a lot of great dishes out there today. Some we really liked and some we didn't."

"Nomads," Padma said. "Your dish had some complex flavor profiles but time worked against you. What should have been a light and refreshing mushroom soup ended up feeling a little heavy and oily on the palette. Murphy hung his head. Clarke felt bad for her friend. She knew this wasn't the start he wanted. 

"Ice Nation," said Tom. "You struggled with the time as well, but instead of running out of time, you plated too early. By the time we got your dish the meat had rested too long and was overcooked." 

Clarke watched Roan while Tom spoke. She could see Roan seething from Tom's comments. 

"Onto some good news," said Padma. 

"There were two really standout dishes here today," said Tom. "Grounders, I have no idea how you recreated such a classic french dish in such a short amount of time but you did and made it look easy." 

Lexa beamed while Tom spoke while Any and Lincoln stood next to her looking somber as ever.

"And to the Ark crew," Tom turned towards their table. "I could eat a vat of that salsa. Really great dish, lots of flavors. I'm looking forward to seeing what you all do the rest of the season." The Blakes reached forward to take Clarke's hand in their. Bellamy gave her hand a quick squeeze.

"But there can only be one winner of the quickfire and only one person gets immunity from the first challenge," said Padma.

Tom gestured between the two teams," chefs, I'm wildly impressed with what you were able to accomplish as a team in just forty-five minutes. But there were two chefs that really stood out. Clarke and Lexa."

Clarke held her breath. 

"Clarke," Tom turned to her. "I still can't get over just how good that salsa was. It brought the whole dish together. And Lexa," he turned. "You gave me a well seasoned and perfectly cooked piece of fish that melted in my mouth."

"Tom" Padma said, placing her hand on his back. "Who is the winner of our first quickfire?"

"Padma, the winner of our first quickfire and the winner of immunity in the first challenge is."

Clarke leaned towards Tom, willing him to say her name. She could feel the Blakes leaning in with her. 

"Lexa!"

Clarke huffed out a breath, body deflating a little. Bellamy patted her on the back, "It's ok, Clarke. We'll get her next time."

Clarke nodded her thanks to her teammate and looked over at Lexa. Again she was met with piercing green eyes. Lexa nodded her head towards Clarke and moved towards her. Lexa put her hand out, "nice job, Clarke." Lexa's tongue lingered on the end of her name making it pop. Clarke shook her hand, surprised at how soft her palms were. 

"Thanks. You too. Congrats on winning immunity." 

Lexa shrugged, "I don't care about immunity so much as winning." She narrowed her eyes. "I plan on winning, Clarke. I plan to prove that I'm the best."

Clarke let go over her hand a little taken aback at Lexa's cockiness and intensity. She crossed her arms, "Well, to win you're going to have to go through me first."

Lexa's mouth turned up into a smile and she looked at Clarke, drank in her features. "I look forward to taking you apart piece by piece. See you back at the house," and Lexa turned away to rejoin her team. 

Clarke let out a breath. She wasn't sure if she'd just made a friend or an enemy, but she did know her heart was racing and her hand tingled from where Lexa had held it. This was going to be a long competition. She just hoped she was up for it.


	2. Episode 1: First Impressions (At the Top Chef House)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and crew arrive at the Top Chef house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second chapter was getting a little long so I thought I’d break it into two pieces and post early. No real action in this chapter but we get to know Clarke a little better and we meet Lincoln.

With the first quickfire over, Clarke and her team were ushered outside to waiting vehicles to take them to their shared house. Octavia bounced into the backseat of their SUV and giggled, “Top Chef, brought to you this year by Rav4 and the Glad family of products.”

Clarke chuckled and leaned her head against the passenger door window while she waited for Bellamy. He was talking to one of the members of Ice Nation. She had long brown hair with blonde streaks in it and, while she seemed intense, she also seemed to be enjoying Bell’s easy banter. That is, until Octavia leaned over the backseat and honked the horn at them, startling them both. “Bell!” she yelled. “You can charm your way into Echo’s pants later. We’ve got to get moving or we’re going to end up with the worst rooms!”

Bellamy turned to Echo, hand rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. They said their goodbyes and he walked over to the SUV, sliding into the driver’s seat. He looked at his sister in the rearview mirror. “Thanks for the assist, O” he huffed.

Octavia rolled her eyes, “please,” she cheerfully quipped, shoving his shoulder. “You know you love it.”

The Blakes continued to talk and harass each other as Bellamy pulled the car out of the studio lot and into the Houston traffic. Clarke took the opportunity to drink in the city. She’d never travelled to Texas before and it was like being in a foreign land. A land full of big trucks and wide smiles. She couldn’t get over how friendly everyone was here even though it was a billion degrees and the humidity made walking outside feel like an Olympic swimming event. 

The studio where they were filming was located in downtown Houston and the Top Chef house was in a swanky community called River Oaks. Large trees lined the less crowded streets and families could be seen walking down the sidewalks enjoying the sunny, summer afternoon. 

Clarke sighed. She missed afternoons like this in her life. Everything had been in overdrive for the last five or six years and she missed lazy afternoons with her parents. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d seen her mom outside of a holiday. They’d had a rocky relationship ever since Clarke’s dad died almost ten years ago. Her father’s sudden death had crushed them both and her mother, Abby, had responded by throwing herself into her work while Clarke literally ran away from home. Clarke was still turning these thoughts around in her head when Bellamy pulled into a circle driveway. Clarke looked out the car window and her eyes widened.

The house was absolutely gorgeous. A large two-story, brick house with huge windows and ivy covering the entire façade. The house was bordered on either side by massive oak trees draped with Spanish moss. The structure was certainly striking, but Clarke thought it also looked inviting. She couldn’t wait to get inside. 

Bellamy parked behind the only other car in the driveway and they unloaded their bags. “Looks like we beat everyone here,” he said while he grabbed his duffle and Clarke’s suitcase. Bellamy, ever the gentleman, insisted on being her personal pack mule whenever they traveled. He claimed it was because Clarke was the real talent in the group and he couldn’t risk her being tired out by trivial manual labor. Clarke knew it was more than that. Clarke had protested at the beginning but had given up the fight long ago. 

That was just the way he was. Bellamy Blake always wanted to make people feel comfortable and safe. He was her biggest cheerleader and her rock. He’d held her hand while she cried from stress after a long day in the kitchen and been the first to hug her when she got the call from the James Beard Foundation. Working together had made him a stronger cook and Clarke liked to think that his steadiness had made her a stronger person. 

“Race you inside!” Octavia yelled, sprinting towards the door. 

Clarke and Bellamy just grinned at each other as Octavia shoved into the house. They followed behind her and looked around. The entryway was massive. A huge staircase ran up the middle of the house and up to the second floor where Clarke assumed the bedrooms were. There was a large, informal living room tucked off to the right and Clarke could just make out a kitchen way in the back of the house. This was a home meant for parties and though it was grand, Clarke could tell it had good bones. 

Octavia poked her head over the railing, “Hurry up you guys,” she exclaimed. “There’s enough room for each of the crews to have their own room but there aren’t that many bathrooms. We all know Bell needs his counter space!”

“Hey!” Bellamy yelled up at his sister. “It takes work to look this good!”

Octavia laughed and then stuck her tongue out at her older brother. “And that’s why I always say that I got the good genes,” she laughed. 

Clarke and Bellamy joined Octavia upstairs and familiarized themselves with the house. “Ok,” Octavia said. “I think I’ve got a room that will work. It shares a bathroom with one of the other rooms, but I figure six people to a bathroom is better than nine. Let me know what you all think,” she gestured them into a large room that held a bunk bed and a full-size bed. 

Clarke walked over to the window and looked out over a sprawling backyard. The lawn was massive, it was easily over an acre, and it had a kid-friendly pool to the left that even featured a small water slide. Clarke sighed. This was a far cry from the 1,110 sq ft apartment above the restaurant that she shared with Bellamy and Octavia back in San Francisco. She turned to Octavia, nodding in approval. “This will work.”

“Sweet,” said Octavia. “I’ll let our suitemates know.” 

“Cool,” said Clarke. “I’m going to go explore a little.”

After exploring the rest of the house, Clarke found herself outside in the enormous backyard. The openness and privacy called to her. She hadn’t had a moment of quiet all day and that’s how she found herself, pants rolled up with her feet dangling into the pool. 

The cool water was perfect on such a hot day and Clarke bemoaned the fact that she could probably only stay outside another few minutes before a sunburn set in. She had her eyes closed, humming a nonsense tune to herself when a shadow passed over her eyes.

Clarke cracked one eye open and saw Lincoln standing next to her. “Mind if I sit?” He rumbled in a deep baritone. Lincoln had changed out of his work clothes and into simple khaki shorts and a tank top that showed off his muscular frame. She could see why Octavia thought he was hot. He was. Caramel skin glinted in the sun, but it was his eyes that Clarke found really striking. They weren’t uniquely colored but were rather, Clarke thought, uniquely kind looking. She was instantly at ease with the larger man. Gentleness radiated off of him.

Clarke gestures to the spot next to her, “please feel free to join me. The water is incredible.” Lincoln toed off his flip flops and sat down next to her while pulling a book out of his pant pocket. 

Clarke sat up, pulling her legs out of the water and her knees up to her chest. “What are you reading?” She asked.

“Oh. Ugh,” Lincoln cleared his throat. “It’s poetry.” He blushed slightly showing her the book.

Clarke’s smile warms towards the man. She closes her eyes to recite from a memory, smile still lingering on sun chapped lips,

“I sing a song of myself,  
as others have done before me,  
but none have sung a song like this  
because this one is mine,  
and there will never be any like me.”

Clarke nudged Lincoln with her shoulder. “You have good taste in poets. I’ve always had a soft spot for Walt Whitman.”

Lincoln turned his head a little and regarded her for a long moment. He tapped the book in his hand and said, “this actually isn’t mine.”

“Oh,” Clarke blushed. She gestured to the well worn book. “I just assumed that you had read it before. I feel really embarrassed now,” she said, hiding her face behind her hands.

Lincoln laughed warmly. “Don’t be embarrassed. I love poetry. I just haven’t read this particular book yet. I borrowed it from Lexa when we left Napa.”

“Lexa?”

Lincoln nodded. “She loves Whitman.” He leaned closer to Clarke motioning her to come closer. She did. “Lexa,” he whispered. “Is a huge softy.”

At that Clarke threw her head back and laughed. “Sure,” She said. “I believe that the commander is secretly made of mopey goo on the inside.”

Lincoln smiled just a little and shrugged, sun glinting off of bronzed muscle. “She’d never admit this to anyone but our Lexa is a hopeless romantic.”

“Really?” Questioned Clarke.

Lincoln nodded.

“Hmmmm,” She said to herself. She tucked herself into her knees and watched the slight wind swirl through the trees. Lincoln started to read. They sat in companionable silence until Octavia came out to get them.

“Hey!” She called from the doorway. They both looked up. Octavia jerked her thumb towards the inside of the house, “We need you guys in here. Padma is here!” And she jetted off back into the house.

Clarke and Lincoln hurriedly brushed themselves off and turned towards the house. As they walked Lincoln cleared his throat and a slight red colored his cheeks, “so your friend, Octavia” he began.

Clarke chuckled, “Yeah, I know. She’s kind of a lot.”

“Oh,” Lincoln shook his head, “No. I was going to say she has a lot of passion. You can see it in the way she carries herself.”

At the doorway Clarke paused. She turned to Lincoln, assessing what she already knew about him. “War poets,” She said.

“What?”

Clarke shrugged, “War poets. Octavia likes the war poets. Specifically British poets from World War I.”

Lincoln smiled to himself. “She likes poetry?”

Clarke nodded. “Yep, but her love is almost exclusively reserved for tragic heroes and lost causes. Octavia is the patron saint of lost causes.”

Lincoln sighed, “because she’s a warrior at heart” as he looked after Octavia’s retreating form.

Clarke patted him on the shoulder good naturedly and chuckled again, “Ok, big guy. There will be enough time to swoon over O later. Let’s go see what Padma wants.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Next up: the elimination challenge. Who will come out on top, who will go home, and will Clarke’s skills with poetry win over our valiant Lexa? All this and more in the next chapter.
> 
> See you Wednesday!
> 
> As always, you can find me on Tumblr @TvandTalkies.
> 
> This fic updates on Wednesday and Sunday as well as any other day I feel like it apparently.


	3. Episode 1: First Impressions (Elimination Challenge)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first elimination challenge is upon our chefs. Who will rise to the top and who will ha e the challenge blow up in their face?

The Top Chef House was full of activity when Lincoln and Clarke stepped inside. Crews were huddled together discussing theories on what was going to happen tonight.

Padma stood off to one side draped in an off the shoulder sweater that highlighted her high cheekbones and killer shoulders. Clarke huffed and flicked a leaf from the pool off of her leg.

She said her goodbyes to Lincoln and headed over to where Bellamy and Murphy were having an intense conversation. “John Murphy,” Clarke leaned up to smack a kiss on Murphy’s cheek. “As I live and breathe.”

Murphy scowled at her, wiping away the tiny remnants of her lip gloss. “Clarke,” he nodded. “Bellamy and I were just discussing the pros and cons of farm raised eggs versus store bought.”

“Oh god,” Clarke moaned. “Please kill me now.”

“I’m serious, Clarke.” Murphy pinched his fingers together until there was just a small gap separating them, “We are this close from a devastating eggpocalypse!” 

“Babe,” came a voice from behind Clarke. “You aren’t talking about the damn eggs again are you?”

Clarke turned, grin spreading across her face. 

“Hey, Emori.” She leaned in for a hug, squeezed her tight and leaned back to take her in. “You look fantastic.”

Emori laughed, “Well I should! I’m four months pregnant!”

Clarke beamed. “Get out of here!” She gestured to Murphy, “You let this grump put a bun in your oven?” 

Murphy crossed his arms in mock indignation, but Clarke thought he also looked very pleased with himself. Emori crossed to her husband who draped his arm across her shoulders. “Sure did. Part of the whole married bliss thing. You know?” Emori held up her hand to show off the wedding ring that sparkled on her middle finger. 

Clarke laughed. She first met Emori at a punk rock concert where they were both manning competing food trucks. Emori struck up a conversation with Clarke and told her that she’d lost her ring finger in a freak slicer accident. Clarke had been horrified and shared the story with several people. It was months before Emori confessed to Clarke that she’d actually lost the finger as a kid and just liked to see people freak out when they thought the injury was recent. A very embarrassed Clarke, and a few beers later found Emori and Clarke thick as thieves. She didn’t get to see Emori and Murphy nearly enough to her liking but she had yet to be able to convince them to abandon their food truck for traditional restaurant life.

“Can I have your attention please,” Padma called out. The room was immediately quiet. Clarke could hear the hum of the lights above her head in the tense silence. “I wanted to be the first to welcome you to your new home and hope you’ve found everything to your liking.”

No one spoke as Padma continued. “Houston is a city known for its hospitality and tonight you’ll get to show me and a few friends your version of hospitality, Top Chef style.”

Clarke closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Shit” she thought to herself. “We’re going to duke it out right here.”

Padma gestured to a room behind her sealed off by two sliding doors. “Your task this evening will be to make a good first impression on our panel of judges.” She gestured towards a hallway and the other judges came into view. “You already know our head judge, Tom Colicchio.” 

“Hey, chefs” Tom waved.

“Tom is joined by the incomparable Gail Simmons from Food and Wine Magazine and our special guest judge this evening, and owner of the house you are staying in, Lynn Wyatt.”

Lynn, a petite blonde, stepped forward. “Howdy chefs and welcome to Houston and a special welcome to my home. I hope you enjoy your time here,” she drawled.

All of the chefs clapped for her as she stepped back behind Padma.

“Chefs,” said Tom. “Your job is to each create a dish using the ingredients behind us in this room and using the equipment found in this kitchen. You’ll be broken into three groups of five and you’ll be cooking head-to-head. That means that two people from your team will be on the top and safe from elimination, one person will be in the middle, and the two worst dishes will be at the bottom and eligible to go home. I expect to see some amazing dishes that make us feel welcome and show us what it means to be home.”

“Each group will have 15 minutes to plan and an hour to cook,” said Padma. “But we do have a small twist for you.” Padma pulled out a knife block from underneath the table. “You’ll each draw knives to determine what team you are on. The knives are numbered 5, 7, and 11. Those are the groups you are in and the exact number of ingredients you must use in your dish.”

Clarke swallowed. This was going to be tough.

“Please, come draw knives and separate into your groups.”

One-by-one each chef walked up to the block to draw a knife. Octavia ended up in a group with Roan, Murphy, Lincoln and Echo. Bellamy was paired off with Raven, Anya, Jasper, and Maya. And Clarke was left with Emori, Monty, Ontari, and Lexa. 

“We meet again,” said Lexa as Clarke walked over to their group.

Clarke didn’t back down from Lexa’s gaze. “This time I’m going to be on top,” she replied.

“Clarke,” Lexa smirked. “You can be on top any time you want.”

Clarke’s mouth hung open. She took a step back and then prepared a sassy reply. If Lexa was going to play mind games with her then she intended to give as good as she got.

Her train of thought was interrupted by Padma flinging the doors behind her open. Clarke’s eyes scanned the visible food items as Padma yelled, “Your 15 minutes of planning starts now!” 

And the contestants were off. They all crowded into the room, food falling to the floor as people grabbed for items they desperately wanted. Clarke had no idea what to cook. She hadn’t expected so many options once the doors opened. The room was much larger than she had imagined and there were six enormous tables lined with proteins, fresh produce, and spices. 

Having too many options was turning out to be a problem for Clarke. She only had the ability to use five ingredients outside of salt, pepper, butter, olive oil, and sugar. Chefs surrounded her on all sides, each one snagging items and hoarding them away on their workstations. Several of the chefs in the first group were furiously scribbling ideas down in their notepads to prepare for their looming cook time.

Clarke wandered over to a table and picked up a beet.

Lexa came to stand behind her, arms crossed behind her back, legs spread. “It’s a little overwhelming isn’t it,” She gestured to all of the food.

“It’s a lottle overwhelming,” Clarke nodded in agreement. 

Lexa cocked her head to the side in confusion. “I’m sorry, what?”

Clarke chuckled, “It’s a lottle overwhelming. It’s more than a little overwhelming but isn’t a LOT overwhelming.” She gestured to the other contestants running around, “it’s a lottle.”

Lexa laughed. It started as a rumble in her chest and quietly drifted out in lyrical waves. She covered her mouth as if surprised at her own amusement and cleared her throat. “Yes, I suppose it is … a lottle overwhelming as you put it.” 

Lexa grinned at her, turned to walk away, and paused looking over her shoulder. “You better pick something soon, _prisa_ , or someone’s going to beet you to it,” she nodded towards the beet in Clarke’s hand.

“Oh my god,” Clarke mocked. “Was that a joke from the almighty commander?”

“I have many weapons, Clarke” Lexa said seriously. “Humor is just one of them.”

Clarke crossed her arms. “Hate to break it to you commander, but you aren’t that funny.”

Lexa scrunched her face up in confusion,”Now I know you are wrong. I am definitely funnier than both Anya and Lincoln.”

Clarke looked over at the striking cousins standing off in a corner stoically holding two large baskets of goods. They looked like kitchen security. “Yeah,” She said turning back to Lexa, “your cousins may not be a good measuring stick for that.”

Lexa seemed to consider this for a moment and then nodded in agreement. “Fair enough,” she said. “Until next time, _prisa_.”

“What does that mean?” Clarke called to Lexa’s back. She didn’t get a response, just a slow, sly smile as Lexa turned.

“Ask me again sometime and maybe I’ll tell you.”

Clarke stood there, singular beet in hand, staring after her. The woman moved gracefully, there was no denying it. She had striking green eyes and lips the poets would write about.

Clarke’s eyes lit up. She knew what she wanted to do.

“Five minutes,” yelled Padma.

“Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fuck” mumbled Clarke as she dashed to find her ingredients. Now that she knew what she wanted to make she knew it would all be for nothing if she didn’t get exactly what she needed.

With seconds to spare, Clarke dropped her goods in the bottom of her basket and was ushered into a makeshift waiting room while the first group began cooking.

Octavia’s group was up first and Clarke found herself more nervous for her friend than for her own turn. Bellamy sat beside her, leg thumping while they counted down the hour. 

Clarke looked around the room. The other contestants were in various states of distress save a few. Raven had Anya trapped in a corner and was enthusiastically explaining how to make a small explosion with just ground pepper and a match. The taller woman appeared horrified by the conversation but also made no move to get away from the wildly gesticulating Latina. Maya and Jasper were huddled together in a corner, iPod held between them while they listened to music through shared earbuds. Every once in a while they would look at each other and blush. It was clear to Clarke that they were smitten with each other. 

Then there was Lexa. She was by herself, leaned against a wall, eyes closed. Clarke thought she might be sleeping until one eye peaked open and caught her staring. Lexa’s lips curled into a soft smile as she leaned her head back and closed her eyes again. “Keep your eyes to yourself, Griffin” she called across the room.

Clarke was about to respond when Bellamy took her hand. “Time’s almost up,” he said nodding towards the digital clock in the corner of the room. They sat together, holding each other’s hands until the clock struck zero. Then they waited while the other contestants served the judges and received feedback.

Octavia hadn’t come back from the judge’s table when a producer called Bellamy’s group into cook. “Good luck!” Called Clarke. Bellamy nodded in recognition and looked towards the door where they could hear the faintest sound of voices coming from where the judges sat. “She’s going to be fine,” Clarke said. “Go kick some ass.”

Then there was just one group left. Emori started pacing back and forth across the room, Monty gently tapped away a steady beat on the table, and Ontari started sharpening her knives as if preparing for battle. And through it all, Lexa sat quietly. 

She didn’t even open an eye when the first group returned from judge’s table a few minutes later. Octavia rushed over to Clarke and squealed in delight. “I made it, Clarke!” She exclaimed. “They loved my dish. Honestly it would have been a disaster except Lincoln helped me plate at the last minute. God, Clarke. He’s so nice. I know it put him behind to help me out, but he did it anyway.”

Clarke listened to Octavia carry on about the fine qualities of Lincoln Woods and smiled softly at her friend. It was almost her time to cook and Clarke hoped that some of Octavia’s positive energy would rub off on her.

The minutes ticked by until it was Clarke’s turn. A producer came to get the final group and explained what would happen from here. They would go in, cook, the camera crews would take a moment or two to capture their food on film, and then they would be shuffled in to talk to the judges.

They were directed to the kitchen, the clock was set, and then all hell broke loose. As soon as the producer yelled “go” everyone started scrambling for pots, pans, plates, and anything else they would need. Clarke was opening a drawer in search of a small jar when she bumped into Ontari. “Watch it,” snarled the Ice Nation brunette. Clarke hastily apologized and moved back to her station. Ontari was the kind of crazy Clarke did not enjoy.

Clarke knew that timing was going to be an issue for her. Her dish had several intricate knife cuts, some manual shaping, pickling, and a little roasting. She could do her dish in an hour, but just barely. 

Time flew by until Tom was suddenly in the kitchen asking them all questions about their dishes. When he came to Clarke’s station he looked around, “looks like you’ve been busy.” He smiled.

Clarke blew a stray piece of hair out of her face before answering, “I have been.” She never stopped cutting.

“What are you making for us today?”

Clarke delicately placed a ribbon of pickled beet onto her first plate. “It’s a seasonal progression of sorts. Four vegetables prepared four different ways, using four different knife cuts.”

Tom nodded his head. “I heard the word four a lot. You know you’ve got to incorporate five ingredients. What’s the last item?” 

Clarke paused for just a moment, looked up at Tom and said, “You’ll just have to wait and see, chef.”

Tom chuckled, nodded his head and wandered away.

Clarke looked up at the clock and realized that she needed to start playing immediately if she wanted to serve a dish at all. The last two minutes were a frantic rush to plate, stack, sauce, and wipe down her plates. When the timer beeped, Clarke took a step back to look at her dish and grinned. It. Was. Perfect. Every swirl of sauce, every thinly cut carrot and twirled beet was placed exactly as she had imagined. If she was going to go home, this was a dish she was proud to stand behind.

The judges talked to each of them individually as they served. Clarke stood in the corner with the rest of the group and waited her turn. Most of the feedback was neutral. Proper feedback would happen later on in the evening, but Clarke could tell that the judges loved Lexa’s dish, and they didn’t care for Ontari’s because of the way the other girl seethed.

Then it was Clarke’s turn.

The servers placed a plate in front of each of the four judges. “Clarke, tell us what you’ve made here” said Padma.

“Well,” she began. “I was inspired by a poem.” Clarke saw Lexa straighten with interest over in the corner. 

“A poem?” Asked Gail.

Clarke nodded. “Song Of Myself by Walt Whitman.”

“Really?” Chirped Lynn. “How utterly enthralling.”

Clarke continued, “It’s a poem about individuality and about life over time. Each phase of the poem is a progression through the narrator’s life. The phases of life I’ve represented here through a progression of the seasons starting in spring and ending in winter. There are dual sauces on the plate. Tom, the last ingredient I used is in the sauce on the plate. It’s a blueberry gastrique. My dad loved blueberries and he loved poetry. He has always been the thing that felt most like home to me, and I wanted to share that with you all tonight,” Clarke’s voice wavered a fraction as she said those last words, emotions getting the best of her.

She watched the judges begin to eat her dish. After a few bites, Tom made eye contact with each of the other judges, nodded, and turned to Clarke. “I think your father would be very proud of this dish.”

Clarke hiccuped a watery laugh. She was thrilled as Tom continued, “it was a bold move to serve something simple, refined and with no meat in the very first elimination round.”

“Well, I like bold. I like it in my drink and I like it in my women,” drawled Lynn. “Great work here, kiddo. You did good.”

The producers ushered them out of the room and back in with the rest of the group. A hand lightly touched her shoulder and she turned to meet Lexa’s gaze. “Nice job, Clarke.” 

“Thanks, Lexa.” Clarke responded. She wanted to say more to the other woman but Octavia and Bellamy pounced on her right away.

“How did it go? What did you make? What did the judges say?” Octavia peppered her with questions.

Bellamy pinched the bridge of his nose, “Jesus, O. Give her a minute to freaking breathe.”

Clarke laughed quietly. “It went well. I got a little emotional in with the judges, but I don’t think they minded.”

“That’s great then!” Said Octavia. “Bellamy thinks he did well, and I know I did.” Octavia leaned in close to Clarke and whispered, “Maya missed an element on her plate, so she may be going home.”

Clarke looked over O’s shoulder at Maya. She had her head buried in Jasper’s shirt front and was being gently hugged by both Emori and Murphy. This had not been a good day for her friends from Nomads. 

“Do you think that means she’s out?” Clarke asked.

Bellamy shrugged. “Tough to say. She didn’t get everything on the plate but I don’t know if it was the judges’ least favorite dish. They didn’t care for Roan’s much according to Octavia and Raven had an element that didn’t work.”

“She didn’t get something on the plate?”

Bellamy shook his head. “She was trying to light her flambé on fire and couldn’t get it to light tableside for a bit and the alcohol soaked into her dish. The judges thought the alcohol lingered and threw off the balance.”

Clarke looked over at Raven. She was sitting in a chair jabbering to Anya again as Monty applied a balm to her forehead.

Clarke waved her hand towards the group. “Ugh, what happened to her head?”

“Oh, that” Bellamy chuckled. “She wanted to figure out what went wrong so she harangued a production assistant into bringing her a bottle of the liquor she used, a pan, and some matches. She either put too much liquor in or leaned too far over, I don’t know which,” he laughed. “But she somehow managed to singe her eyebrow off. She scared Anya and Emori half to death!”

Clarke took in Raven’s appearance one more time. Monty had finished patching her up. Anya took Raven’s face in her hands, startling the jabbering chef into silence and inspecting Monty’s work. Apparently it met her standards because she released a now quiet Raven and nodded at Monty. Once Monty walked away Raven started chattering again. Anya rolled her eyes heavenward and took a seat next to the slightly charred chef.

It seemed like forever until Padma came into the room. “The judges would like to see Lexa, Clarke, Lincoln, Octavia, Anya, and Bellamy.” 

Clarke and the Ark crew hugged quickly before following Padma into see the judges.

“Congratulations,” Tom began. “You were the top chefs from each group this evening.” The chefs cheered and whooped in delight until Tom calmed them down enough to continue. “You each showed tremendous poise under pressure. You should all be very proud.”

“Lincoln,” said Gail. “Your flavors in that soup made me just want to curl up with a good book.” Lincoln blushed just a little as Octavia turned to give him a hug.

“And Octavia,” said Padma. “That pork was cooked to perfection.”

“Thanks, Padma.” Chirped Octavia in excitement.

“Bellamy and Anya,” said Tom. "You all basically made dishes that were the exact opposite of each other but still managed to individually developed complex flavors in a short amount of time. Well done.” 

Tom turned to Lexa, “Ms. Woods, if you cook like this all season, you’re going to earn your nickname.” 

Clarke felt Lexa glow under Tom’s praise as she stood next to her.

“And Clarke,” said Lynn. “You gave us what was, perhaps, the most delicate dish of the evening.”

“It’s true, Clarke” said Gail. “You mentioned that the dish was inspired by a poem but it looked like a painting. Every item delicately plated, every drop of sauce accounted for.”

“It was fuckin’ delicious,” interjected Lynn.

The judges burst into laughter. “What?” said Lynn. “Am I not allowed to say that?” She waved dismissively. “Whatever, you can just bleep it out in post. It was! It was a joy to see and to eat, and I loved your inspiration.”

“You cooked from the heart tonight, Clarke” said Tom. “It takes more than just precision in the kitchen to be a great chef. If this food represents you,” he grinned. “I can’t wait to see what you do next.”

Clarke’s eyes watered. She was desperately trying not to cry when she felt a hand on her elbow. Lexa leaned in and whispered, “looks like you’re going to be on top tonight, _prisa_.”

A laugh bubbled up inside of Clarke and spilled over as she wiped away a few stray tears. She leaned in toward Lexa and whispered into her ear, “Stick around long enough and you’ll figure out I’m always on top.” She leaned back and tried not to enjoy the shocked look on the commander’s face. Maybe Lincoln was right about Lexa, Clarke thought to herself.

“Moving along,” said Padma. 

“Chefs,” said Tom. “You all did a fine job this evening. I’m sure Lynn would agree that you ensured that this season of Top Chef started with a bang.”

“A literal bang at one point,” quipped Lynn.

Tom chuckled, “but there can only be one winner this evening. Padma?”

Padma took her time scanning the chefs. “Clarke,” She said. “Congratulations.”

Clarke couldn’t breath she was so happy. Then she was scooped into Bellamy’s arms while Octavia bounced around them clapping and whooping. Octavia even planted a quick kiss on Lincoln’s lips that left the quiet man sputtering.

“Ok. Ok.” Said Tom. “Clarke, I’m sure you know the history of being the first contestant to win the first challenge. Many go on to become the winners of Top Chef. That puts a big target on your back. I hope you can handle the added pressure. Congrats again.”

“Now on to less pleasant business,” said Padma. “I’ll need you to send back some of your fellow competitors.”

After receiving instructions from Padma, Clarke and the winners returned to the waiting room where congratulatory claps on the back and hugs were passed out before she broke the news. “They want to see Maya, Jasper, Roan, Ontari, Monty, and Raven,” she said.

The group left to face the judges and Clarke exhaled. She was exhausted. The waiting room remained quiet while they waited to hear what would happen to the other chefs. 

Sometime later they reappeared, heads hung low. 

Raven was openly crying. “It should have been me,” She sobbed, collapsing into a chair.

“It’s ok, Raven,” sniffed Maya. “Really,” she shrugged. “I’m going home everyone.”

Tiny gasps flitted throughout the room.

Maya shook her head. “It’s ok. I didn’t complete the challenge appropriately. I made a stupid mistake and now I’m going home. I’m just glad I got this opportunity and met some amazing people,” she took Jasper’s hand and gave it a little squeeze. Everyone said their goodbyes to Maya and she exited the house. Clarke wondered if she even had time to unpack her things.

They were preparing to leave the room when Tom joined them. “Tough night,” he said. “The first one always is. Try not to be too upset because,” he grinned. “Last Chance Kitchen is back.”

Clarke gasped.

“That’s right,” continued Tom. “While you all battle it out, eliminated chefs will go head-to-head competing for a chance to get back on the show. Two winners of Last Chance Kitchen have actually come back to win the whole thing, so these chefs are definitely a threat. Don’t let your guard down for a second or I’ll see you in Last Chance Kitchen.”

Clarke took in the information that Tom had just given the group. In theory, she loved the idea of getting a second chance, but in practice she wanted eliminated competitors to stay eliminated. This was already tough enough without throwing in a wild card. 

“Now,” said Tom. “It’s been a long night. I’m sure you all could use a rest. You’re going to need it because we’re going to crank up the quickfire tomorrow.”

And he left the kitchen.

Clarke turned to the Blakes, looped her arms though theirs. “Come on,” She said. “Let’s hit the hay.”  
——————————————————————  
Episode 1:

Quickfire Winner/Immunity: Lexa  
Challenge Winner: Clarke  
Top: Anya, Bellamy, Clarke, Lexa, Lincoln, Octavia  
Bottom: Jasper, Maya, Monty, Ontari, Raven, Roan  
Safe: Echo, Emori, Murphy  
Eliminated: Maya  
Contestants Remaining: 14  
——————————————————————

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading! I hope you enjoyed the new chapter. Chapter 4 will be up by Sunday. Until then, leave me a comment or follow me on Tumblr @TvandTalkies.
> 
> If you want to see a video with Lynn Wyatt talking about Houston, check her out here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GzUQE8QluqU
> 
> My inspiration for the Top Chef House can be found here https://activerain-store.s3.amazonaws.com/image_store/uploads/agents/realtorshari/files/riveroakstalltimbers.jpg
> 
> The poem "Song of Myself" can be found in Whitman's classic collection of poems Leaves of Grass. It's a lovely read. I highly recommend.


	4. Episode 2: Holy Guacamole! (Quickfire)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke has an interesting morning and learns more about some of the other contestants. The chefs compete in a mise en place relay race for immunity and find out about their next elimination challenge. 
> 
> Raven makes a bad joke.

Clarke woke up and immediately regretted it. Her mouth was dry, her throat felt itchy, and her eyes watered every time she blinked. She stumbled into the shared bathroom and knocked into someone standing behind the door.

“Hey,” came a voice. “Watch it you _branwada_.” 

“Sorry!” Apologized Clarke and she opened the door fully to see none other than Lexa Woods still dressed in her pajamas, hair loose and curled over one shoulder, thick framed glasses perched on her nose. 

Lexa rolled her eyes and leaned over the sink to add toothpaste to her toothbrush. “I should have known,” she chuckled. “If I die in this competition, it’s definitely you who’s going to kill me.”

Clarke leaned against the doorway smiling, “Nah. My money is on Reyes. She’ll probably blow us all to bits. Do you know how her,” Clarke gestured towards her face, “is?”

Lexa nodded. “Anya said that she’s down one eyebrow, but fine other than that. She’s a little beat up over Maya being sent home though. She feels responsible.” 

Clarke hummed her agreement and joined Lexa at the sink. Lexa raised an eyebrow when Clarke stole her toothpaste to use on her own toothbrush but didn’t protest about sharing the space. They brushed their teeth in silence. It wasn’t awkward or tense. In fact, if Clarke had been asked to label it, she might have called their silence a companionable one.

This version of Lexa was softer than the commander. Hair down, eyes still heavy from sleep. Clarke had to resist reaching out to touch Lexa’s tattoos. She’d been surprised to see a large, intricate piece on her arm and even more shocked to see another on the back of her neck in the shape of an infinity symbol. 

Clarke’s quiet observation obviously didn’t go unnoticed as Lexa put down her toothbrush and asked, “See something you like?” 

It struck Clarke that the question seemed more sincere than snarky. Morning Lexa was indeed a puzzle. Apparently it took time to build up the walls the commander put in place. Clarke nodded and reached out, pausing just before her hand touched Lexa’s skin. “May I?” She asked.

Lexa nodded and Clarke reached out to turn Lexa’s arm gently towards her. She could feel the steady thrum of Lexa’s pulse where she held her wrist. Clarke traced the pattern on Lexa’s arm, “What does it mean?”

Lexa shrugged, looking away. “It’s from home.”

“From San Francisco?”

Lexa shook her head. “No. Our real home, Polis. We had to leave. I haven’t been home since I was eight.” She sighed, “Anya and Lincoln remember it better than I do. We’ve been refugees in the United States ever since. This tattoo and a few things we brought with us are all I have left.”

“Lexa, I…”

“Clarke!” Octavia burst into the room. Lexa and Clarke jumped away from each other as if burned by being caught in such an intimate moment. “Oh. Sorry,” said Octavia. “I didn’t mean to interrupt whatever this… thing was.”

Clarke sputtered, “We were just brushing our teeth, O!”

Octavia rolled her eyes, “Whatever, Bellamy told me to let you know that we’re heading out in twenty minutes. That goes for you, too commander.”

 

XX

One hour, two cups of coffee, and one half eaten Snickers bar stolen from Murphy later found Clarke and the rest of the contestants back in the Top Chef kitchen awaiting Padma’s arrival. She still felt exhausted and out of sorts. Usually she only felt like this after a night of heavy drinking. It sucked to have a hangover when she didn’t even get to enjoy earning one.

“You ok there, Griffster?” Raven asked. Raven had shared a car with her and the Blakes on the way over. Apparently Jasper was distraught over Maya’s abrupt departure and refused to listen to anything except Celine Dion ballads. Clarke had learned a lot about Raven Reyes along the way. She was originally from Miami, went to MIT for undergrad, Stanford for a masters in engineering, got a job at NASA, and then quit after falling in love with molecular gastronomy. Raven had talked the entire ride over and Clarke found her frantic energy charming if a little overwhelming.

“Earth to Griffin,” Raven snapped her fingers. “Do I need to build a rocket and chase you down? I can do it you know.”

Clarke swatted Raven’s hand away. “What were you saying before you volunteered to shoot yourself into space? Very romantic by the way,” Clarke winked.

“Whoa, settle down there young gun. You’re smokin’ hot but I’ve got my eye on a certain quiet, brooding-type with killer cheekbones,” she nodded towards Anya. 

Clarke chuckled. “Damn” She said snapping her fingers. “And here I was hoping I could sweep you off your feet. What’s the deal with you and Anya anyway? I take it you knew each other before the competition?”

Raven shrugged, “We’ve known each other since Stanford.”

“Anya went to Stanford?” 

At that, Raven threw her head back and howled with laughter, drawing the attention of most of the room. “God no,” she said wiping small tears from her eyes. “Can you imagine Anya sitting in a lecture hall discussing literary theory with coeds? I think she’d rather die.” Raven continued, “I was a month into my first year of my masters and heard about a cooking demo going on in San Francisco, so I took the BART into the city and I saw molecular gastronomy at work for the first time.” 

Raven sighs longingly, “It was magical. It was science and food, playfulness and soulfulness all wrapped into one. At the end of the demo I hung back to ask some questions and literally bumped into her.” Raven paused, smiling sheepishly. “And into a canister of liquid nitrogen.”

Clarke smiled. It sounded exactly like something that would happen to Raven. “Go on,” encouraged Clarke. She was completely caught up in what appeared to be a meet cute of classic rom-com proportions.

Raven rolled her eyes, “Don’t rush me, Griff. I’m getting to the good stuff. So I literally froze my pants off. Well, the hem at least. I’m actually really lucky I didn’t lose a toe or something worse and Anya offered to take me to her place. Did you know that Anya and Lexa have a place in San Francisco? Lincoln is the only one that lives in Napa full-time.”

Clarke shook her head. She hadn’t known that. She wondered where they lived. She could picture Lexa living in the Mission District right down the street from an amazing patisserie, Tartine. Clarke could see Lexa going into the classic French café, ordering a scone, and planning her new menu items for the week, thick framed glasses resting on the bridge of her nose. Her daydreaming was interrupted when Raven began to speak again.

“Anyway, we hit it off and became fast friends. I’d take the train up to SF when I could and she would drive down to Palo Alto once or twice a week. We had a good thing going.” Raven sighed deeply “Well, until one night after coffee she kissed me.”

“What?” Said Clarke. “How is kissing you a bad thing? It seems like that’s exactly what you want!”

Raven ran her hand through her hair and shrugged. “It is. But back then.. back then. Back then,” she stammered. “I wasn’t as sure. But it wasn’t her. I knew I wanted her, but I didn’t know how she could want me. My boyfriend at MIT really messed with my head and I just… I panicked.”

“Oh, Raven” Clarke said laying a hand on her shoulder in comfort.

Raven shook her head. “I really don’t know why I’m telling you all of this? Where the fuck is Padma?!”

Clarke laughed, nudging Raven with her shoulder. “You can stop anytime you want.”

Raven shook her head again, “Nah. It actually feels good to talk about it. So she kissed me and I freaked. Just totally ran away and left her standing outside my apartment like a moron. God, I know it hurt her. She’s so tough, you know? Like sexy tough, but also with a lot of walls. And she let me in and I— I betrayed her trust in me.”

Shuffling her feet, Raven continued, “She didn’t talk to me for a week. I called and apologized. I sent texts and emails. Hell, I sent a fucking postcard! I couldn’t leave school because it was mid-terms and they were busting my nuts.”

“After the tests were done, we threw a huge party; Me, Jasper, and Monty. I want really feeling up for it but I felt like shit and needed a distraction. So I got drunk and started making out with some guy from my quantum physics lecture and she showed up.”

Raven swallowed, “I’ve never felt worse about something.” Raven’s head hung low, “she wasn’t avoiding me. She had been dealing with a family emergency and left her phone at her apartment in all of the chaos. Did you know Lexa used to be married?”

Clarke’s eyes widened.

“Guess not. Anyway, her wife, Costia, died a long time ago and it absolutely wrecked Lexa for awhile. That’s what Anya was dealing with. Lexa had some sort of breakdown and got into a really bad car accident. Anya didn’t know if she was going to live! And the first thing she does when she comes home is drive to see me only to find me making out with some dude whose name I can’t even remember. ¡ _Jesucristo_! I really am a _branwada_.”

“Someone’s really going to have to tell me what that means sometime,” Clarke interrupts.

Raven chuckles, “It means moron in _Trigedasleng_. It’s what they speak in Polis. Anyway, I chased Anya outside and tried to explain. But she didn’t yell at me or scream, she just nodded and said we could still be friends. And her we are,” Raven gestured dejectedly. “Friends.” 

“I think you’re a little more than that,” said Clarke.

Raven groaned, “Ugh. You have no idea how much I wish that were true. I’ve been trying to make it up to her for years, but I can’t get through this friendship wall she’s put up. I don’t think she cares about me that way anymore and I can deal with it. Really, I can.”

“Raven,” said Clarke. “I’ve seen what friends look like. Bellamy and I are friends. Murphy and I are friends. You and Anya? You’re not friends.”

“You think?” Raven asks hopefully.

Clarke nods, “No one frets the way she did over you last night who is just a friend.”

Raven blushes and idley strokes the little bandaid on her forehead where an eyebrow should be. “Thanks, Clarke. I…”

“Ladies, and gentlemen,” said Padma as she enters the room. I’m sorry for the delay. Our guest judge today was running a little late. Let me introduce our judge for the Quickfire and guest judge for the elimination round, Hugh Acheson.”

Hugh waves, “Greetings chefs. It’s always nice to be back on Top Chef.”

Padma nods, “And it’s great to have you back. Hugh has judged dozens of Top Chef competitions but never a Quickfire.”

“That’s true! I’m a Quickfire virgin!”

Everyone chuckles awkwardly.

“So in honor of Hugh’s first time judging a Quickfire, we let him pick the challenge.”

Hugh begins running his hands together gleefully, “Chefs, I have one Quickfire that I absolutely adore. I’ve been a fan ever since it became a regular challenge back in season 3 of Top Chef and I’m very excited to see what happens today when you all tackle,” Hugh pauses. “The mise en place relay race.”

“That’s right,” says Padma. “You’ll be broken into two teams of seven. Each team will brunoise a bucket of shallots, descale and fillet four perfect pieces of fish, turnout ten artichokes, shuck twenty oysters, dice six cups of carrots, and finally a chef will have to break down six chickens.”

“Chefs,” said Hugh. “Mise en place may seem like a simple thing. It’s just prep work right? Wrong! It sets the stage for everything else that goes on in the kitchen after the prep work is done and the cooking begins. Good knife skills and speed can help lay a firm foundation in any kitchen.”

“The two teams will go head-to-head,” began Padma. “The winning team will then face off for immunity while the losing team watches. Does everyone understand? If so, please come forward and draw knives.”

XX

The red and blue teams assembled behind their stations. Clarke had drawn a blue knife which paired her with Jasper, Monty, Ontari, Raven, Bellamy, and Lincoln. The other chefs all made up the red team and the red team looked fierce. 

“Chefs,” said Padma. “Take your positions!” They all settled in.

“Go!” Signaled Hugh.

And the chopping began. Jasper immediately started flying through shallots. For a kid that looked stoned most of the time, and who was supposedly getting over a somewhat broken heart, he seemed determined to win. Clarke looked over at the other team. Murphy was handling shallots for the red team. Clarke’s group appeared to be slightly ahead but she couldn’t tell.

“Check!” Yelled Jasper. Hugh blew his whistle and Murphy stopped cutting. Hugh examined Jasper’s cuts and made sure he’d finished enough onions to satisfy him. Hugh nodded in approval, “looks good.” He blew his whistle. “Continue.” 

Next up was Raven who started hacking into the fish like a mad woman. Clarke just prayed that a decent fillet could be made out of whatever Raven produced.

The competition carried on, each team stopping and starting as they finished elements of the race. Clarke’s team lost the slight lead they had when Ontari struggled shucking the oysters. Ontari’s struggle took Clark aback as the crew from Ice Nation specialized in seafood. She couldn’t dwell on it too much though because her turn was rapidly approaching. 

She was carrying the last leg of the race and when she looked over at the red team she realized that this was going to put her head-to-head with Lexa again. Lexa had entered commander mode and calmly waited by her cutting board, fingers hovering just next to her knife. 

The red team had pulled out ahead and they looked to be capitalizing on that lead as Monty struggled to keep up with Anya’s blistering speed dicing carrots. “Check!” Yelled Anya. 

Hugh walked over and nodded. “Looks good,” said Hugh and Lexa quickly snatched up her knife.

Clarke turned to root Monty on. He was so close! He was dicing as fast as he could, little rivulets of sweat streaking his face. “Check!” He screamed in excitement. Jasper enveloped his friend in a hug. Their team was behind but Monty’s performance had still been impressive nonetheless. Hugh nodded, “looks good” and blew his whistle.

Clarke zoned out after that. She cut quickly and efficiently. She knew Lexa was at least two chickens ahead. That was a lot of time to make up. She couldn’t afford to be distracted. Soon enough, Clarke realized she was on her very last chicken. She had caught up to the commander! She risked a glance at Lexa and realized that she could win. Clarke redoubled her efforts, concentrating on precision and speed.

“Check.” Lexa calmly said.

“Aww,” whined Jasper. “I thought you had her, Clarke. You are the chicken man!”

Clarke raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry” mumbled Jasper. “Chicken woman!”

Hugh sauntered over to Lexa. Clarke didn’t need to look at Lexa’s station to know that six perfectly broken down chickens rested there. 

“Damn it,” she muttered, thinking of her lost shot at immunity. Immunity would have been nice. Immunity would have meant at least one more day to compete.

“The winner of the relay is the red team,” announced Hugh. The red team broke into cheers and gave each other celebratory high fives and pats on the back. Lexa even shook hands with Roan.

“Tough loss,” said Bellamy, patting her on the back. “You almost had her.” 

Clarke shrugged, “Can’t win ‘em all I suppose. We’ll just have to settle for telling embarrassingly loud for your sister in the immunity round.” 

Bellamy grinned, “yeah, we’ll have to do that for sure.

The kitchen was reset and Padma explained the rules. Each chef would have to prepare a dish highlighting at least two of the mise en place ingredients in just fifteen minutes. Clarke knew that this was going to be tough.

As soon as the timer started, the chefs took off towards the pantry. Clarke saw Emori trip and fall, Murphy stopped to help her get up but was brushed off by his wife. Clarke knew that the spill had rattled Murphy though because his eyes constantly tracked Emori’s movements. Clarke felt bad for her friend but tried to cheer him on by screaming, “get your head in the game, loser” loud enough for him to hear. She didn’t know if it helped, but she did see his trademark Murphy smirk reappear on his face.

With just a few minutes left, the final dishes started coming together and Clarke thought they all looked solid. Rave had wandered over to Clarke’s side at some point, “the dishes look really good, right?”

Clarke nodded and watched the final seconds of the clock wind down. “Time,” yelled Padma.

The competing chefs each took positions behind their stations and waited for Padma and Hugh to approach. Several minutes later, Padma and Hugh had reached a decision.

“Chefs,” said Hugh. “This was a monster of a challenge. I’m not sure that I could have done any better than you did here today. You should all be very proud.”

“But there can only be one winner with immunity today,” replied Padma. “Hugh, will you tell us who our winner is today?”

“The chef with the best dish and immunity from elimination is,” he paused.

Clarke felt Raven take her hand under the table as she leaned forward in anticipation.

“Anya.”

“Hell yes!” Hollered Raven. 

Anya stood proudly to the side, head held high. Clarke would have thought she was unfazed by the win if not for the slight head nod and wink in Raven’s direction.

“Yeah,” Clarke thought. “Those two definitely weren’t just friends.”

“Now that the Quickfire is done,” said Padma. “Are you ready to hear what your challenge for this episode is?”

All of the chefs nodded eagerly. “Houston, as I’m sure you are all aware,” started Padma. “Is known for its multiculturalism, but there is one ethnic cuisine that is near and dear to every Texans heart.”

Hugh removed an item from behind its back. “Catch,” he said and tossed the object to Octavia.

“It’s an avocado,” said Octavia.

“That’s right!” Chirped Hugh. “Avocados are one of the cornerstone ingredients in the classic Texas culinary style, Tex-Mex.”

“Now,” said Padma. “Tex-Mex has something of a bad reputation. It’s delicious to be sure but it’s also packed with tortillas, chips, queso, and a lot of other things that taste amazing but aren’t exactly heart healthy.”

“And that’s your challenge today,” said Hugh. “You’ll work in the teams you are already in to create five dishes that represent a healthy alternative to a Texas staple.”

“You’ll be serving 300 guests at the Catholic Archdiocese of Houston. Included in your guest will be children, community members, priests, and Cardinal Daniel DiNardo. So please, no swearing,” chuckled Padma.

“Looks like Reyes is going to need a muzzle” Murphy laughed.

“Shut up, Murph!” Retorted Raven.

“Each team will get one hour to shop at Whole Foods, three hours to prep tonight, and two hours to get ready for service tomorrow. I look forward to sampling your dishes.”

And with that, Padma and Hugh strolled out of the room. It was time for another elimination challenge.

“Hey, Clarke,” said Raven. “What would you say if I made some… holy guacamole?”

Clarke laughed at the young woman. She was glad they were going to be working together again. “I think that sounds great as long as you don’t tell the priests that.”

“Aww” pouted Raven. “You’re no fun.”

And they got to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading. Chapter 5 will be up by Wednesday. If you’re looking for immediate updates, have questions, or just want to drop me a line, feel free to follow me on Tumblr @TVandTalkies.
> 
> Branwada = Moron  
> Queso = mana from cheesy heaven  
> Mise en place = prep work done in a restaurant  
> Cardinal Daniel DiNardo is a real dude and all-around nice guy. If we ever have an American pope in my lifetime, it’ll probably be this dude.


	5. Episode 2: Holy Guacamole (Whole Foods and The Top Chef House)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crews head to Whole Foods and then back to the Top Chef House after prepping for the Top Chef elimination challenge. We learn a little about group dynamics and Clarke and Lexa spend some time together uninterrupted.

The teams separated out to begin discussing their dishes. Ontari had some very vocal opinions about the direction they should take as a team. She wanted to pull from the Baja-style of Mexican food since it tended to be healthier. Baja featured more black beans, fewer refried, citrus was heavily featured, and heavy cheese didn’t make as much an appearance. 

Clarke and Raven shared a look. The challenge was specifically about Texas and Tex-Mex. Clarke wasn’t 100% sure that going Baja in style was the right call, but Ontari was adamant.

“It’s a done deal, ok?” The muscular brunette stated.

Monty, who had thus far remained quiet spoke up. “How about a compromise? Maybe a South meets Southwest progression. We can start with traditional Tex-Mex flavors and then transition into Baja?”

Clarke would have preferred to just stick with straight Tex-Mex, but the young chef from Ice Nation would not be deterred. “Fine,” She said, exasperated.

Ontari grinned, and Clarke couldn’t help but feel like she’d just lost a larger battle she didn’t know she was fighting. They decided to team up to make dishes. Clarke, Raven, and Monty would work together on three dishes. Jasper and Ontari were concentrating on the main course and dessert. Which left Bellamy partnered with Lincoln to round out the last two dishes.

The teams piled into their cars and headed to Whole Foods. Clarke, Raven, and Monty hopped into one of the Rav4s while Ontari and the rest of the guys took the one directly behind them. They discussed dishes on the way.

Monty opted to do a play on carne asada using leaner cuts of beef to lighten the calorie load and substituting lettuce cups for tortillas. Clarke was making a hearty barracho bean soup that she was sure would be a hit with the judges as long as it wasn’t too hot out, and Raven was making her “world famous” guacamole and flax seed chips. 

Bellamy and Lincoln also seemed to have a handle on their dishes which featured a lot of fresh vegetables and citrus. Clarke was more unsure of Ontari and Jasper. She didn’t feel like their dishes were fully formed or well thought out. 

Ontari had insisted on doing a pork dish even though pork was far fattier than most other meats and Jasper was doing a sopapilla ice cream served with fresh strawberries. She liked the idea of a sopapilla ice cream and Jasper’s idea of substituting Splenda for sugar might work, but she was nervous about testing it out in an elimination round. They needed to think strategically about their dishes if they wanted to pull a victory out from underneath the red team.

When they arrived at Whole Foods there was a mad dash to the meat counter. Clarke’s dish only needed beans, various vegetables, and beer so she tried to stay away from the chaos. She rounded a corner and smacked right into Lexa with her cart.

“Oh, my God!” Exclaimed Clarke. “Lexa, I’m so sorry. I came around the aisle and didn’t even see you there.”

Lexa rubbed her hip where Clarke had run into her and grunted, “This is becoming something of a habit with you, _prisa_. Thankfully, I have insurance so you can continue your abuse. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Are you?— Are you mocking me?” Gaped Clarke.

Lexa smiled mischievously, eyes glinting. “And what if I am, Clarke?” Lexa said in a low voice. “What are you going to do about it?”

“If I’m honest,” she squinted at Lexa. “Probably nothing. However, I very well may hit you with another cart or door at some point. I’m notoriously clumsy,” she chuckled.

“Feel free to hit on me whenever you’d like Clarke.”

Clarke blushed. “Ummmm thanks. That’s not what I said, but ok.”

Lexa’s smug smile returned. “Well, English isn’t my first language you know. Sometimes I—I get a little mixed up with my words.”

Clarke doubted that very much but there was no way she was having this conversation in a grocery store so she decided to redirect the conversation. “So, what are you making?”

Lexa lifted her shoulders, unconcerned by the question. “You know, a little bit of this. A little bit of that.”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “I’m wasn’t trying to steal your idea or anything. I was just curious. I’m not sure that our team is heading in the right direction, but I’m not really sure what to do about it.”

Lexa’s grin disappeared. She was all business now. “Why are you telling me this, Clarke? We are competitors. You should not be sharing this with me. I could use it against you.”

Clarke nervously rubbed her hands together as if trying to wring the anxiety out of her body. “I honestly don’t know. I just - I feel like I can trust you with this for some reason. You’re the commander for crying out loud. You KNOW how to lead people.” Clarke’s head dropped in frustration, “I’m still not sure how to do that.”

“Look at me, Clarke,” said Lexa. 

Clarke didn’t raise her head right away, eyes shut tight with embarrassment at having shared too much, but she felt Lexa move around her cart to come stand next to her. Delicate hands lifted her head up and she heard Lexa whisper, “Open your eyes, _prisa_.”

Clarke did as she was told and opened her eyes. Lexa was a breath away from her, sincere, green eyes staring back at her. Lexa removed her hand from Clarke’s chin and took her hand. Clarke felt the balloon of anxiety that had been residing within her deflate just a little at the contact. Lexa’s thumb lightly rubbed the back of Clarke’s hand in quiet support. 

“You find your voice,” said Lexa. “When you have absolute confidence in yourself and your abilities, others will follow you.” Lexa nodded down the aisle to where Octavia and Lincoln were deep in conversation, “Some already do follow you. They see greatness in you.”

Clarke shuddered out a breath and nodded. “Thanks. I don’t always see what they do, but I’m trying,” she smiled. “You make it look so easy to be so completely in charge and in control all the time.”

Lexa’s eyebrows raised, “Is that what you think?”

Clarke shrugged in confirmation.

Lexa looked down at where her hand still held Clarke’s and turned to over in hers, stroking the palm gently with her thumb. Clarke shivered. It was the second time they had touched that day, and Clarke couldn’t believe how electric it felt. She didn’t know why, but she felt drawn to Lexa. She felt that way about food sometimes, drawn to a particular spice or flavor profile. She’d learned not to second guess that pull, so she wouldn’t second guess it now and hoped following her gut wouldn’t prove to be disastrous later on. 

“It’s not easy,” murmured Lexa, eyes still fixed on Clarke’s hand.

“What?” said Clarke, emerging from the haze of her thoughts.

Lexa looked up, meeting her gaze. “It’s not. It’s not easy. I have doubts.”

Clarke was shocked. “About your skills?”

Lexa shook her head in disagreement. “No,” she said. “I know I’m a good chef. I have doubts about my ability to lead. To do what’s right for my family, my people. I’m their commander first and Lexa second in almost everything.”

Lexa dropped Clarke’s hand and Clarke immediately missed the warm, comforting touch. Lexa had pulled her tightly braided hair over her shoulder and was worrying the ends between her fingers. This was the girl from this morning, thought Clarke. This was Lexa, not the commander. And she felt equally as drawn to this softer side of Lexa.

“So, what do you do when you feel like you aren’t enough?” Clarke asked.

Lexa paused thoughtfully and slowly replied, “I suppose - I suppose I rely on the faith of my team and my own skills. I have made mistakes, and my mistakes have cost others a great deal. Forgiving myself and asking for the forgiveness of others has helped me move past them and to become stronger. But it took time. It takes time,” she said, her green eyes steady. “You’ll get there.”

Clarke straightened a little, giving Lexa’s shoulder a little shove. She chuckled, “Why aren’t you like this all the time? I think I like just Lexa. You’re so cocky most of the time I want to wipe that smirk off your face.”

Lexa laughed, “Because it gets to you.” she winked, bravado and sass returning in an instant. “It’s fun to see you riled up.”

“Riled, huh?” Clarke moved closer, trapping Lexa between her body and the shelf behind her. She placed a hand next to Lexa’s head, leaned in close to her ear and whispered, “and why would you want to do that?”

Clarke knew she was playing with fire. That taunting Lexa could lead to a million terrible outcomes for both of them, but it was all worth it when she saw Lexa’s throat bob just a little and looked up to see Lexa’s eyes dialated, full of want. Well, wasn’t that interesting.

Clarke stepped away from the disheveled commander, grabbed her cart and started walking away. It felt good to win this time.

“See you later, commander” she called out over her shoulder. And if she put a little extra swagger in her step, who would ever know. She knew Lexa was watching and this time she was the one leaving her behind, speechless and wondering. 

XX

Back at the Top Chef house it was chaos. The teams had spent hours in the Top Chef kitchen prepping their dishes and everyone was simultaneously exhausted and filled with seemingly limitless energy now that they were back at the house. 

Raven and Jasper had broken into the liquor cabinet to create something called Rocket Fuel. Clarke had no idea what was in the red drink, but it certainly burned going down. One glass left Clarke feeling a little lightheaded and woozy.

She decided it was find somewhere a little less lively when Octavia jumped up on the island and declared herself the ultimate mise en place master. Raven, apparently taking great offense at this, threw her drink towards Anya and challenged Octavia to a throw down. The two women were furiously dicing vegetables, both Anya and Lincoln watching bemusedly, when Clarke left the kitchen. She’d participated in just such a showdown before and Bellamy had ended up with a small knick on his eyebrow as a reward. Octavia swore that this cut was also an accident and that the juice from the vegetables made her knife slip. Whatever the truth was, Clarke didn’t want to be around O when alcohol and sharp objects were around. 

Clarke grabbed her notebook off of a nearby table and looked for a quiet place to sit. She’d grown accustomed to taking a little time to herself every day to plan out dishes and fiddle around with old recipes. Sometimes she even drew small sketches of the dishes at the bottom of the page, a talent leftover from a year of art school right after high school graduation.

Clarke tried the backyard first but found Echo and Bellamy in a heated debate with Murphy and Emori over the evils of corn subsidies and soil erosion in the Midwest. Hard pass.

Then she tried the library only to find Roan and Ontari participating in some kind of martial arts exercise that involved flipping someone over their head. No thanks.

Clarke headed towards the end of the house. The further in she got the darker and quieter the house became. It would have been eerie if not for the sound of the wind whipping through the trees outside and the occasional tinkle of laughter coming from the kitchen reverberating down the hall.

At the very edge of the house she found an enormous picture window with a seat underneath it. And that was, of course, where she found Lexa Woods. Clarke drank her in from her spot in the hallway. Lexa hadn’t seen her yet and was relaxing quietly on the window seat, one leg stretched out and one tucked up to her chest supporting a book which she was reading intently. Lexa looked more relaxed than Clarke had seen her in the last two days, hair down and wavy, dressed in a simple set of sweatpants and baggy t-shirt, glasses on and slowly slipping down her nose.

As if on cue, one of Lexa’s hands moved from the book balanced on her knee to push up the offending glasses. Clarke chuckled quietly, but it was enough to alert Lexa to her presence. Lexa smiled at her warmly and Clarke could swear her breath caught in her throat. Lexa shouldn’t smile at anyone like that let alone someone she’d only know two days. But, God, Clarke wanted Lexa to smile at her like that again and again and again.

“Hello, Clarke.” Lexa called into the hallway. Clarke moved out of the shadows and into the softly lit alcove. Lexa was lit only by a soft reading lamp and the moon which hung high and bright in the sky, shining in through the window. 

“Would you like to join me?” Lexa said, gesturing to the other side of the window seat.

Clarke knew she should find somewhere else to go, to be alone with her thoughts, but the shy little smile Lexa gave her convinced her to stay. She took a seat at the other end of the window seat and stretched out her legs. Even fully extended, only their ankles crossed and it felt innocent and intimate at the same time. Clarke turned the reading light on behind her, bathing her in the soft, incandescent glow, and pulled one leg up to her chest, mirroring Lexa.

When she looked up, she saw Lexa looking at her. “What?” She asked. “Do I have something in my hair?”

Lexa shook her head. “No, I – I was just noticing your tattoo. What is it?”

“Oh,” Clarke said, moving her shirt up to cover the tattoo where it had slipped down earlier. “It’s a paper airplane. My dad was an engineer and we used to spend hours together crafting the perfect paper planes and throwing them from the second story of our house out into the backyard.”

“Sounds like a good memory,” said Lexa.

“It was,” said Clarke. “It is.”

Lexa nodded.

Clarke was tempted to ask about Lexa’s wife and what happened, but this moment felt delicate and she didn’t want to ruin it by asking too much of her. So instead she asked, “Whatcha reading?”

Lexa angled the worn and dog eared paperback towards Clarke so she could see the cover. “It’s a collection of short stories by Jhumpa Lahiri. Have you heard of her?”

Clarke shook her head. She hadn’t.

Lexa continued, “She writes mostly about first-generation Americans or recent immigrants and their transition into American culture. This collection of stories is my favorite.”

“What’s it called?” Asked Clarke.

“Interpreter of Maladies.”

Clarke wrinkled her nose, “That sounds bleak.”

Lexa chuckled and nodded. “I guess some of them are,” she confirmed. “But it’s mostly about unexpected changes in life and how we deal with them. The story I’m reading now is about a couple who lost a child and have had distance come between them because of the loss. There’s a power outage and they grow close again, or so the husband thinks. What he thinks is intimacy is really a goodbye from his wife, who leaves at the end of the story to deal with her own issues.”

Clarke hummed, “like I said, it sounds bleak.”

“It kind of is,” said Lexa. “It’s about two people who think they are on the same page but aren’t. Aren’t all of saddest endings to love stories that way?”

“I don’t know,” replied Clarke. “I’ve always thought that the ones that devastate me the most are stories that never really get a chance to start, you know? Like, there’s two people clearly meant for each other but they are ripped apart just when they should be coming together.”

“Hmmmm,” considered Lexa. “Maybe. What are you working on?” Lexa nods at Clarke’s notebook. 

Clarke shrugs. “I don’t know just a routine I guess. It’s not really work. I sit down every night and think about flavor profiles I’d like to experiment with or touch up old recipes.”

“Sounds like work to me.”

Clarke smiled, “I guess it kind of is, but this is different. I think. Some of these recipes I’ve never tried before. I’m saving them for the right time.”

Lexa held out her hand, “Mind if I look?”

Clarke hesitated. She’d never shared her notebook with anyone before, not even Bellamy or Octavia. These were her private thoughts and experiments. Some of them were silly and some of them, she thought, might be spectacular.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” said Lexa, interrupting her contemplation. 

Clarke shook her head and smiled at Lexa, “I want to.” She handed over her notebook.

Lexa set down her own book and gently took Clarke’s notebook into her hands, propping it open on her leg. She quietly turned the pages as she read each recipe and the notes Clarke had written on the pages. Lexa’s hand skimmed the pages, hovering over particular words, drawings, ingredients. Every once in a while, Lexa would raise an eyebrow, laugh at something Clarke wrote, or sigh quietly.

Clarke watched her devour the notebook. She wondered how Lexa could be so delicate and so solid simultaneously. She vibrated with confidence and drew every eye to her just by standing tall in a room, but here and now she called to Clarke and Clarke alone. This was one of the most intimate moments Clarke had ever shared with someone, but she wasn’t sure if Lexa felt it too, the easy companionship and hum of something just beneath the surface of every interaction they shared. 

Lexa sighed heavily and handed the notebook back to Clarke. She leaned her head back against the wall, eyes closed and her removed her glasses. Clarke was about to speak when Lexa lifted her head up and looked at Clarke. There were tears glistening in her eyes when she softly said, “Thank you, Clarke.”

“For what,” Clarke asked.

Lexa smiled contentedly, eyes shining. “For sharing that with me. It was lovely. You have a real gift Clarke. You should write a book.”

Clarke scoffed. 

“I’m serious,” said Lexa. “Your recipes, though some of them still need work, are extraordinary. The way you write about food is so,” she sighed deeply. “Intoxicating is, I think, the right word. And every once in a while you have a sketch of a person, a dish, an herb that is incredibly inviting. You should. You should write a book. You should write this book, _prisa_.”

Clarke rolled her eyes at the use of the nickname. “Are you seriously not going to tell me what that means?”

Lexa shook her head, “not yet.”

Lexa picked her book back up, about to fall back into her reading. 

“Lexa?” 

She looked up. “Yes, Clarke?”

“Umm. Thanks. I’ve never shown this to anyone. It means a lot to me that someone has seen these and thought they have potential. That I have potential.”

Lexa looked back down at her book, flicking it open to where she left off. “I think you have endless potential, Clarke” she said while looking down at the page.

Clarke didn’t respond. Instead, she picked her notebook up and opened it to the next blank page, folding a crease into the seam to keep the page from curling up and began to sketch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy Guacamole is a favorite phrase of mine, and it wasn’t until I moved away from Texas that I realized this is NOT a universal phrase.
> 
> I mentioned Jhumpa Lahiri’s collection “Interpreter of Maladies” in this chapter. It’s a truly breathtaking series of short stories that I highly recommend to anyone looking for writing inspiration.
> 
> I wrote this chapter on my phone while listening non-stop to Zedd’s “The Middle.” While the lyrics aren’t necessarily applicable to Clarke and Lexa I think the general sentiment of meeting someone “in the middle” strikes a chord for me in this chapter. This chapter is the first real brick in building a relationship between two talented chefs that are also flawed people. 
> 
> Next Time on This Love Cuts Like a Knife: the Top Chef: Houston contestants tackle the Holy Guacamole challenge. We see mistakes play out, someone goes home, and someone gets lucky.
> 
> Tune in Sunday for more and you can follow me on Tumblr for headcannons and ramblings @TvandTalkies.


	6. Episode 2: Holy Guacamole (The Challenge)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cheftestants face off. A winner and a loser are declared. Someone goes home and someone gets lucky.

Clarke woke up to sunlight coming in from the picture window and with her legs tangled in Lexa’s. She couldn’t believe they fell asleep downstairs, but she couldn’t bring herself to regret it with how rested she felt and how utterly adorable Lexa looked. The fierce commander was still fast asleep, glasses askew on her face, lips slightly pouting as she clutched her book to her chest. 

Clarke gently untangled her legs from Lexa’s and felt guilty when she heard a little huff of protest emerge from Lexa’s lips at the loss of extra warmth. Clarke considered leaving her there to sleep a little longer but was worried that they might both be running late for the competition since she had no idea what time it was. 

Clarke leaned over the sleeping woman and gently shook her shoulder. Lexa’s only response was a tiny mewl of protest and to curl in on herself further. Clarke smiled to herself. It was nice to know that Lexa wasn’t a morning person. “Lexa,” she tried again.

Slowly, green eyes fluttered open and long fingers reached out to rub away the last remnants of sleep. “Clarke?” Lexa yawned taking in her surroundings. 

“It’s time to get up.”

“What time is it?” Lexa asked, t-shirt riding up just enough to reveal a smooth expanse of skin. Clarke’s mind went blank, her mouth dry. 

“Umm. I–I don’t really know,” She choked out. 

Lexa nodded and swung her legs over the side of the window bench. “It’s probably time to get ready.”

Clarke nodded, still staring at where the patch of skin had been. She and Lexa walked down the hallway silently, climbed the stairs and ventured to the doors on either side of the bathroom that their space shared.

Clarke opened the door to walk in and heard Lexa softly call her direction “Good night, Clarke.”

She chuckled and turned to Lexa, “Good morning, Lexa.”

XX

“So what happened to you last night?” Asked Bellamy. 

Clarke shrugged in response. “Nothing really. I just fell asleep downstairs.”

Bellamy raised an eyebrow, “Fell asleep downstairs? Where? Is there a secret bedroom down there I don’t know about? If there is, please tell me where. Octavia’s snoring kept me up all night.”

“Hey!” Octavia said in mock offense. “I don’t snore. I’m a delicate, feminine, woman.” 

Clarke and Bellamy both smiled at each other. Everyone knew Octavia could rattle walls with her snoring. That is… everyone but Octavia knew. As far as Octavia was concerned, she was a quiet and peaceful sleeper. 

“There’s not another bedroom,” said Clarke. “I fell asleep on the window bench in the back.”

“Really? Last time I went that direction last night, Lexa was there reading.”

Clarke blushed.

“Oh my god!” Bellamy threw his head back and roared with laughter. “You slept with the commander!”

“Shhhh!” Said Clarke, pointing towards the bathroom. “They can probably hear you!”

Bellamy chuckled, hands on his hips. “Oh, I hope they can! I can’t believe it. Clarke and the commander.”

Clarke shoved him playfully. “Come on, Bell. It’s not like that. We were just talking and fell asleep. Nothing happened. I swear.”

“Well why the fuck not?!” Octavia threw her hands up in the air in frustration. “You’re hot. She’s hot. What’s the hold up? You two should totally hookup.”

Clarke rolled her eyes, “Not everyone’s like you, O. We can’t all see something we want and just zero in on it with laser beam focus. Speaking of which, how are things going with Lincoln? I can’t help but notice that you have a little bruise on your collarbone that looks a lot like a hickey.”

Octavia grinned stupidly, stretching languidly on the bed like a cat that got into the cream. “Things are going very well. The bruise actually isn’t from him.”

“Thank god.” Murmured Bellamy.

Octavia shot him a look. “Like I was saying, the bruise isn’t from him. It’s from the competition with Reyes last night. We both got a little banged up.”

“Do I even want to know?” asked Clarke.

Octavia considered that for a moment. “Probably not,” she shook her head. “But anyway, I got a little banged up and Lincoln helped me bandage my wounds.”

“Wounds as in plural?”

Octavia nodded sheepishly. “Yeah– Umm.. We got a little carried away.”

“What she means is that she and Raven got piss drunk and almost flayed themselves open,” Bellamy interrupted. “Eventually the Grounders cousins carted them each off to see to their wounds.”

Octavia stared dreamily off into the distance. “Yeah,” she sighed deeply. “It was the best.”

Clarke shook her head. “I swear. You’re the only person I know that thinks getting stitches is romantic.”

Octavia threw her body back against the pillows and huffed, “It’s not the stitches, Clarke. It’s the way he took care of me. He cleaned each of my little cuts and scrapes so gently. And he’s such a big guy. But, Clarke, he was so gentle with me. Did you know there was a civil war in their country and they had to flee?”

Clarke nodded, “Lexa mentioned it.”

“Of course she did,” said Octavia. “But did you know that they are some kind of royalty back where they’re from? Like actual royalty. Lincoln was being taught how to become a doctor, and Anya was supposed to be a general or whatever the Polis equivalent of that is. And it turns out that Lexa is called the commander for a reason. She’s the _Heda_.”

“ _Heda_?” Asked Clarke.

Octavia nodded. “She’s actually in charge, Clarke. That’s why they had to leave. There were people out there that wanted to kill all three of them. They didn’t want the Woods cousins to try and take back the country, not that there’s really a country to take back anymore since it’s been divided up. But still! They are actual, political refugees. Can you believe it?”

Clarke really couldn’t, but it did make sense in a certain way. How Lexa and her cousins interacted with each other. Why Lexa worried about her people. The seriousness that resonated within each of the Grounders chefs. It was heartbreaking, but it made sense. “Lincoln told you all of this?” She asked.

Octavia shrugged. “Some of it was Lincoln and some was Raven. She knows the whole story too. Apparently she’s done some fundraising work to bring over refugees from Polis to the States at her restaurant.”

“Does Anya know that?” Asked Clarke.

Octavia shook her head, “I don’t think so, why?”

“No real reason. I just think she might want to know.”

“Sorry to interrupt your mutual pining,” said Bellamy.

“Please, like you aren’t hot for Echo,” grumbled Octavia.

Bellamy laughed. “Like I was saying, sorry to interrupt, but it’s time to start getting ready. We need to be downstairs in like twenty minutes.”

Clarke groaned. Another day, another competition. 

XX

Prep was not going well. It was bitch-ass hot outside and Clarke was worried that serving warm, hearty barracho beans wasn’t the way to go. She was happy with her flavors but knew she had made an error with this dish. She should have done something cold like ceviche, but it was way too late for that.

Whatever doubts she had about her own dish were doubled for Jasper and Ontari. Clarke had tasted Ontari’s pork and it was salty, but Ontari refused to hear it. When Clarke turned to Raven for help, the other woman just shrugged. If Ontari wanted to self-destruct then that was fine by Raven. 

Jasper was also having a rough day. His liquid nitrogen ice cream wasn’t setting up right. Clarke wasn’t sure if it was the heat, the Splenda, the liquid nitrogen, or some combination of the three. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good. Raven had stopped prepping her dish to help him out and Clarke was quickly becoming concerned for the fate of her team. She didn’t want to see anyone go home for a small error at this point in the competition. She was seriously regretting backing down from Ontari the day before, but taking the lead now was too little, too late and the team was just going to have to ride this one out.

It wasn’t a great feeling.

At some point, Tom made his way to their serving station and asked questions about their dishes. Clarke was so busy finishing her dish and part of Raven’s that she barely heard Tom’s question and talked in circles around the question itself in the hopes that the head judge would leave. She wasn’t sure if it worked, but Tom did eventually move on when it became clear that Clarke wasn’t going to be opening up about her dish or their team dynamic.

Then service began and everything fell apart. Half of Raven’s chips were over crisped, no one was coming back for seconds of Ontari’s pork, and the foam Jasper substituted for his ice cream tasted fine but lacked the oomph of a true dessert. They were fucked and Clarke knew it. 

The only shining moments for their team were the dishes prepared by Monty, Lincoln, and Bellamy. Somehow they had managed to pull together a handful of good dishes amongst all the chaos. Clarke could only hope that it was enough to propel them past the red team.

Soon enough, the guest began pouring out and Clarke could feel her energy waning. They cleaned their stations, piled into the Rav4s and headed back to the Top Chef Kitchen to await the judges’ decision.

The stew room was quiet. Both teams seemed preoccupied and Clarke couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Jasper sat in the chair next to Clarke, eyes staring blankly ahead while listening to his iPod. Clarke thought he already seemed to be preparing to leave, but she didn’t know what to say to snap him out of it.

Ontari was off to the side quietly arguing with Roan and pointing viciously in Raven’s direction from time-to-time. Clarke wasn’t sure what that was about, but the constant pointing was obviously getting to Raven. Every time Ontari pointed in her direction, Raven looked like she was about to burst out of her seat. Luckily, Anya had a firm hand on Raven’s leg and didn’t appear to be letting the irritated Latina move. Raven and Anya weren’t speaking, but they occasionally shared a frustrated glance with each other. Raven seemed to be begging Anya to let her go take a bite out of Ontari, and Anya was willing Raven to stay calm. For now, it appeared that Anya’s level headedness was winning out.

The first hour of the judges deliberating passed by slowly. Clarke had been told once that these decisions could sometimes take all night if the judges felt particularly torn about who should win and who should go home. Clarke hoped it didn’t take too long. Her stomach was tied up in knots and all she wanted to do was hide. 

Eventually, Padma appeared and called the red team back. They left and a few minutes later Clarke heard cheering. She sighed, “Well, I guess that’s that.” 

The red team made their way back to the stew room, Murphy patting Lexa on the back. “The commander won!” 

All of the contestants clapped politely and then looked to Lexa for the inevitable bad news. The smile donning her face faded away, and she almost looked sorry when she said, “They want to see all of you.” 

The blue team hauled themselves out of their chairs, bodies seemingly heavier than they had been just a few minutes before. It was time to face the music. 

“Clarke,” said Lexa as Clarke started to walk toward the judges and her potential demise. Clarke turned. 

Lexa reached out to gently cup her elbow. “You’ll be ok,” she said softly.

Clarke nodded, shuddering out a breath. “Thanks, Lexa. I appreciate it.”

 

XX

In front of the judges time seemed to move very slowly. The judges asked questions about each dish and conferred with each other on general impressions of the dish throughout the event.

“Whose idea was it to do a south to southwest progression?” asked Tom.

Ontari raised her chin defiantly, “It was mine, chef.”

“And you thought that was a good idea even though the challenge clearly stated that this should be about Tex-Mex?”

Ontari shrugged off the question. “I thought it might be an interesting way to show off various techniques and flavor profiles while also meeting the challenge requirements.”

“But you cooked a pork dish,” said Padma.

“I did,” confirmed Ontari.

“But you know that pork is far more unhealthy than beef or chicken, so why go that direction if we are also asking for a healthy twist on a classic Tex-Mex dish?” said Padma.

Ontari didn’t answer. She clenched her jaw and stared straight ahead.

“Who cooked the beans?” Asked Hugh.

Clarke swallowed, mouth dry. “That was me, chef.”

Hugh nodded. “I don’t have any problems with the dish itself. The beans were flavorful, filling, and definitely healthier than a lot of other dishes we saw today from both teams. I wonder though if they were a good choice in this weather.”

Clarke nodded, “I agree, chef. I had the same concern this morning but wasn’t sure how to compensate for the heat. I was really just hoping that we’d be somewhere inside that was marginally cooler. It was a tactical error on my end.”

“Clarke,” started Gail. “I have no doubts about your abilities as a chef, but to win this competition, you’re going to have to make better choices. Fantastically talented chefs have gone home before due to simple mistakes like the one you made today. Your dish wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t excellent either. We expect excellence.”

Clarke hung her head. The judges moved on to talk about their favorite dishes of the day. Somewhere in the middle of praising Lincoln and Bellamy, Raven linked her arm through Clarke’s. “It’s going to be ok. We’re going to make it through this.”

Clarke shook her head and sighed, “Not all of us.”

“We had one last dish we wanted to ask about before we make our decision,” said Tom. “Who was responsible for the strawberries.

Clarke held her breath. She had hoped that Jasper might skate by on this one. The judges had appeared to be headed in that direction. Ending the conversation on his dish wasn’t how she wanted to end these deliberations.

“It was me,” croaked Jasper. Clarke could see him visibly trembling just the slightest bit. She wished she was closer so that she could offer him some support.

The judges took Jasper through his paces. Why a foam and not the intended ice cream? Why do an ice cream at all if the challenge was also to be healthier than normal. Where was the Tex-Mex in the dish? Clarke felt like the questions were fair and balanced but a final comment from Tom made her heart sink.

“Jasper,” he said. “I don’t have a problem with the fact that you encountered technical difficulties. It happens to everyone. My issue is that you seemed to just give up on yourself. You basically just served us a plate of nicely cut strawberries. There wasn’t any real skill displayed on the dish. I question choosing the dish at all, but I think this may be a result of lack of leadership on your team.”

Gail nodded, “Everything felt very disjointed. One clear voice to lead all of you might have had a very different result today.”

Clarke felt Raven tense beside her. She looked at Ontari to see if the woman was going to speak up and talk about the path she’d stubbornly lead them all down. She didn’t. Clarke could feel Raven seething beside her, but couldn’t do anything to comfort the other chef except sling her arm around her shoulder. It was up to Jasper to fight for his place in the competition. He needed to tell the judges what happened with Ontari.

He didn’t. Clarke could see on his face that he was already defeated even though no decision had been made. He was giving up. He didn’t want to go on.

Padma and Tom shared a look. Padma nodded and spoke to the team. “Blue team, it was a challenging day for you. There were several dishes that stood out as being excellent, but there were also quite a few missteps.”

They all stood silently, willing Padma not to say their name.

“Jasper,” said Padma. “Please pack your knives and go.”

Jasper hung his head, didn’t meet the judges’ eyes. “Thank you for the opportunity,” he mumbled and headed out of the room in a daze. 

Raven turned into Clarke, burying her face in the crook of Clarke’s shoulder. Clarke held her as hot tears poured down her face and her body shook with little sobs.

“Shhhh” Clarke whispered into her hair. “He’s going to be ok. We’re going to be ok.”

Raven nodded against her coat and pulled back, eyes full of tears. “I know. It’s just– He’s mine, you know? I didn’t protect him.”

Clarke swallowed thickly. She didn’t have anything comforting to tell Raven. This was the exact scenario Clarke didn’t want to be in. What was she going to do if Bellamy or Octavia got sent home? When they went home! Clarke needed their support. She didn’t think she could do this without them.

But she pushed those thoughts aside, and took Raven’s hand. “Let’s go say goodbye to stoner boy,” she smiled.

Raven let out a watery chuckle and nodded. “Ok. Let’s do that. And Clarke?”

“Hmmm?”

“Keep me away from Ontari. I’m feeling the need to punch something and her face is looking really good to me right now.”

XX 

The ride back to the Top Chef House was quiet. Jasper’s elimination had drained the energy from all of the chefs and it seemed like everyone just wanted to pour themselves into bed and forget the day had ever happened. 

At least, that’s what Clarke wanted to do. After changing into pajamas, Clarke found herself wandering the halls. There didn’t appear to be anyone awake but her and a few others. She’d run into Bellamy and Echo in the study and Raven and Anya in the kitchen. Raven hugged Anya tightly as the taller woman stroked her back soothingly. Clarke made herself a cup of tea and exited as quickly as possible, not wanting to interrupt an important moment.

She headed back to the window seat from the night before, tea in hand and notebook tucked under her arm. When she got to the back of the house, she wasn’t surprised to see Lexa there staring out the window with her own cup of tea resting in her hands.

Lexa turned as Clarke approach and sighed tiredly. “Mind if I sit down?” Clarke gestured towards the seat.

Lexa nodded.

Clarke took a seat across from Lexa, settling in. “Congratulations on your win,” Clarke said, blowing across the top of her tea to cool it some. “Tough challenge.”

Lexa nodded curtly, “Thank you, Clarke. I’m sorry that your team lost.”

Clarke shrugged. “Me too. I’m sad to see Jasper go, but I’m honestly more worried about Raven.”

“How so?”

“She’s just taking this really hard. I came from the kitchen and she was hugging Anya so tightly I’m not certain your cousin could breath.”

Lexa smiled softly. “Anya letting Raven touch her at all is a big step, Clarke. She’s tried to stay away from her for years now. If she thinks she can bring Raven some comfort, she might be successful. If nothing else, maybe those two _branwadas_ will finally talk and work out things between them.”

Clarke and Lexa continued to talk as they drank their tea. They shared a few laughs over cooking accidents and embarrassing professional moments and Clarke felt herself relaxing in the presence of the other chef. She was glad she’d found her at the window seat which Clarke was quickly becoming to think of as their window seat. Soon enough, Clarke let out a loud yawn.

“I think that’s our signal to head to bed, _prisa_ , unless you want to sleep here with me again. Clarke moved to give Lexa a playful shove, but Lexa caught her wrist in her hand. Clarke was now kneeling over Lexa’s body, inches away from her face. Her eyes drifted down to Lexa’s lips and then up to her eyes.

Lexa let go of Clarke’s wrist, eyes searching Clarke’s. “We should head to bed,” she whispered quietly. 

Clarke nodded and climbed off of the window seat. They didn’t talk on the walk to their rooms. The air felt charged, like one wrong word could ruin the moment or make it burst into flames. Then they were at their doors, separated by just a few feet.

Clarke turned to open the door to her room but stopped when she felt a hand tentatively touch her arm. Lexa was there, breathing a little uneasily.

“Clarke,” Lexa said. “Can I?”

Clarke nodded and Lexa leaned in. Her heart was racing, their mouths inches apart when she hear a loud moan come from the room behind them.”

Lexa straightened back up, brow furrowed. “What was that?” Another moan, this one louder and distinctly female.

“Oh my god,” Clarke said pulling her face into Lexa’s shoulder to quiet her laughter. “I’m pretty sure it’s Octavia.” 

Another moan, this time male.

Lexa looked horrified. “Lincoln,” she breathed. 

Clarke couldn’t help herself. The disgusted look on Lexa’s face was just too much. She devolved into a fit of giggles and was thankful Lexa’s shoulder was there to muffle the noise. 

“This isn’t funny, Clarke,” said Lexa seriously. “We are here to compete. Not to,” she gestured to the room behind them. “Do whatever they are doing.”

Clarke stepped away, wiping little tears from her eyes. She shook her head, little chuckles still escaping. “Lexa,” She said, holding out her hand. “Let’s go to bed.”

Lexa placed her warm palm in Clarke’s and they headed into the other room. “I still think it’s unprofessional,” she huffed.

“Whatever you say, commander,” said Clarke, closing the door behind them. “Whatever you say.”

——————————————————————  
Episode 2:

Quickfire Winner/Immunity: Anya  
Challenge Winner:Lexa  
Top: Anya, Echo, Emori, Lexa, Murphy, Octavia, Roan  
Bottom: Jasper, Monty, Ontari, Raven, Clarke, Lincoln, Bellamy  
Eliminated: Jasper  
Contestants Remaining: 13——————————————————————

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up on This Love Cuts Like a Knife... We get a POV change, a new challenge, and drama is brewing in the Top Chef House.
> 
> As always, thanks for going on this journey with me. Follow me on Tumblr @TvandTalkies. Next post will be up by Wednesday.


	7. Episode 3: One fish, Two Fish (Quickfire)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after. A new Quickfire puts the chefs’ palates to the test. We finally get to spend some time with Lexa.

“Lexa. Lexa, wake up,” a voice disturbed her slumber. Lexa groaned in protest. If she had it her way, mornings would be non-existent. They were an affront to human decency. A blight on mankind. The ultimate punishment.

“Lexa, for real. You have to get up. We overslept. We’re going to be late.”

Lexa sluggishly dragged her body out from under the covers. She tried to look at the bedside clock but couldn’t read it without her glasses. Where were her glasses anyway? She looked around on the bed and found them tucked into a book. She placed the glasses on the bridge of her nose and brought her world into focus.

Clarke was sitting on the bed opposite from hers. Apparently Lincoln had never made it back the night before and, judging by the fully made top bunk, neither had Anya. Interesting. 

“Lexa,” Clarke called to her again. “We really need to get moving.”

Lexa mumbled a reply, or at least she thought she did. Her brain didn’t work well in the morning, something Lincoln like to give her endless grief about. Whatever she said appeased Clarke and the blonde started moving around the room looking for a lost pair of shoes and a hair tie. 

Lexa saw a shoe in the corner and moved to pick it up. When she reached for the offensive foot apparel her hand brushed Clarke’s and she let out a sigh. Clarke was so warm. All Lexa really wanted to do was get back in bed. Maybe Clarke would go with her? They could just forget the competition and spend the day being lazy bums. Lexa had never spent a full day in bed, but Clarke’s untamed main of blonde hair and adorably rumpled appearance were making her strongly consider it.

“Clarke,” she croaked. Croak was definitely the right word for it, she thought. Her voice felt gravely and rough. She coughed, trying to clear away some of the cobwebs residing on her vocal chords. “What time is it?”

Clarke shrugged in response, loose curls falling around her face. God she was breathtaking. “I don’t know, but I can hear everyone else moving around.” 

Lexa looked towards the bedside table and her clock only to realize it was unplugged. She must have unplugged it on accident so that she could charge her Fitbit. She had a bet going with her cousins that she could get in the most steps during the competition. So far, Anya had won both days. This would not stand. The Heda did not lose. Lexa did not lose. Especially to Anya. Anya was a notorious gloater. Lexa would rather eat her chef’s coat than let Anya win.

She turned back to Clarke, “I’m sure we’re fine, Clarke. If we were in danger of missing the competition I’m sure a producer would come to wake us up. It would be unseemly for them not to do so.”

Clarke drummed her finger nervously against the dresser in the room, “I know you’re probably right. I just hate feeling like I’m starting the day late. Makes me feel uneasy, you know?”

Lexa shook her head. She did not know. The day did not start until she arrived. She was the Heda and the head chef in her kitchen. She sighed, giving one last longing look towards the still warm bed.

“Are you pouting?” Chuckled Clarke. Her eyes widened, “You are!”

Lexa furrowed her brows sternly. “I do not pout, Clarke. It would be unseemly.”

“Sure,” Clarke said teasingly. “You keep telling yourself that. I’ll keep your secret, commander.”

Lexa shook her head, smiling at the blonde. She enjoyed Clarke’s company. The woman was refreshingly open, and Lexa envied how free she was with her emotions. Lexa did not have that luxury. She was a leader first in all things and Lexa second. 

“Let’s go ahead and get ready,” said Clarke pointing towards the bathroom.

Lexa watched as Clarke brushed her hair and wove it into a loose braid. Clarke chattered the entire time talking about Octavia and Lincoln, Anya and Raven, what she thought the Quickfire might be today, and even some about how hot it was in Houston.

Lexa just smiled sleepily the entire time. She didn’t even say anything when Clarke reached across her and stole her toothpaste for the second day in a row.

XX

The Top Chef Kitchen was unusually loud when Lexa walked in. She’d ridden over with Clarke and Bellamy and their car had arrived last. When they got inside the building Clarke and the male Blake sibling spotted Octavia and took off, no doubt to give her a hard time about her evening extracurriculars. Speaking of which, Lexa scanned the room and saw her troublesome cousins off in a corner talking quietly.

She walked towards them. “Get up to anything fun last night?” Lexa asked upon reaching them. Lincoln at least had the good sense to blush, clearly embarrassed about having been caught. Anya just shrugged her shoulders noncommittally.

“Sorry, Lexa” Lincoln said, ears still burnin red. He sighed deeply, “It was a moment of passion.”

Lexa scowled at him, “We’re here to win, Lincoln. We did not come all this way and close the restaurant so that you could make heart eyes at Octavia Blake.”

Anya chuckled quietly which made Lexa turn. “And you,” Lexa said wagging her finger at her older cousin. “Where were you last night?”

Anya shrugs, back leaned casually against the wall behind her. “I slept on the couch. I saw you and Clarke go into our room and thought you two might be headed towards the same thing Lincoln and Octavia were doing.” She shot a menacing glare at her brother, “and I’d really like to not hear THAT again.”

Lincoln nodded sheepishly. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry. I mean– I’m not sorry it happened but I’m sorry you had to hear it.”

Anya nodded and turned to Lexa. “So what exactly happened between you and Clarke in our room?”

Lexa could feel her ears burning. “N–nothing,” She stammered. “I’ve only known her a few days.”

Anya rolled her eyes, “Sure, you’ve only known her for a few days, but you’ve been talking about her and her food for almost two years. Does she know you’re her biggest fan and that you secretly try to recreate her dishes in our kitchen at the restaurant.”

“Shut up, Anya.” Lexa grumbled. “Her food is amazing. And it hasn’t been two years.”

“Almost,” said Lincoln.

Lexa glared at him. “Where’s Padma when I need her?” She mumbled under her breath.

As if I’m cue, Padma walked into the room. “Good afternoon chefs.”

“Good afternoon, Padma” They parroted back.

“Today we’ll be partaking in one of my personal favorite quickfires. A chef has a lot of tools in their bag. Some are literal tools like your knives and some are more– metaphorical in nature. But, perhaps, a chef’s most important tool is their personal palette. So today, we’ll be putting that tool to the test. We’ll be blindfolding each of you and having you taste a variety of ingredients to see how many you can identify in five minutes. The winner gets immunity and an advantage in the next elimination round. Please come draw knives to determine what order you’ll go in.”

The chefs each took a turn drawing knives. Lexa wasn’t worried about this Quickfire. She and her cousins had practiced for this potential Quickfire back at the restaurant. She knew that she had a strong palette and would do well enough in the challenge not to embarrass herself. Lincoln and Anya had also performed well in a controlled environment, so she wasn’t worried about them as well.

One-by-one, all of the chefs were called into a small room with Padma and then, once the challenge was over, taken to the stew room to await their results. In almost no time at all the kitchen held only the last two chefs, Lexa and Clarke.

Clarke had pulled her hair away from her face in a messy braid, little tendrils slowly escaping. Lexa was tempted to reach out and tuck the stray hairs back behind Clarke’s ear but didn’t want to be too forward. Sure, they had maybe almost kissed last night, but casual touches might not be welcome during the day.

Lexa coughed, “Good luck to you, Clarke.”

Clarke nodded. “Thanks, Lexa. You too. Although, I’m sure you don’t need it,” she grinned.

Lexa felt herself smile back. “Of course I don’t need it, prisa. All the same, thank you.”

Lexa thought she might be imagining it, but she could have sworn that Clarke blushed a little at the use of the nickname. Her heart did a little somersault in her chest and she leaned in.

“Clarke,” one of the producers interrupted. “You’re up.”

“Thanks,” said Clarke, hopping up to go tackle the challenge. She turned to Lexa on the way out, “Catch you on the flip side, Heda.” She said with a wink as she left.

Lexa gulped. Clarke Griffin was not good for her blood pressure.

XX

A few minutes later and Lexa was sitting in front of Padma blindfolded. She was becoming more anxious the longer she sat under the hot camera lights. She just wanted to get the challenge over with so she could take off the stupid blindfold. She hated not being able to see. 

She hated feeling alone in the dark. She could feel a little bubble of panic start to rise up in her chest and willed it to go back down.

“Start!” She heard Padma call out. 

She reached for the first container placed in front of her and took a sniff. It smelled earthy. She touched the contents of the plastic cup and smiled, “this is a truffle,” she said confidently.

“You’ll have to be more specific,” she heard Padma say.

Lexa rubbed the top of the mushroom searching for ridges or smooth edges. “Black truffle,” She said and placed the container down.

She continued like this for a bit, slowly ticking away at her time. She’d identified quite a few ingredients quickly and had guessed on a few. The last item was giving her trouble. 

It didn’t have a strong smell at all and was a little sticky in touch. She took some of the substance and licked it from her finger. It had an almost gritty texture but was sweet. She tasted it again. There was a hint of earthiness in the flavor as well. She knew this flavor. What was it? 

“Twenty seconds” said Padma.

Lexa huffed in frustration. What was this stuff? She rubbed the substance between her fingers and noticed it became more oily as she rubbed her fingers together. She knew what it was!

“Red bean paste!” She yelled just as Padma yelled “Time!”

Lexa removed her blindfold and looked at the substance in her hand. Sure enough, a gooey mess of brightly colored red bean paste was there.

“Well done, Lexa” said Padma cheerfully. “If you’ll join the other contestants in the stew room, I’ll come share the results of the Quickfire with you in a moment.”

Lexa wipes her hands on a cloth and exited the room. She was grinning ear-to-ear as she entered the stew room. The first person she saw was Clarke, quietly sitting at a table, writing in her notebook. Lexa went to join her. When you did well, sometimes you wanted to share that happiness with a pretty girl.

She sat down across from Clarke. “Hey,” She said.

Clarke held up a finger while she finished writing something in her notebook. Once she was finished she placed her pen inside the book and gently closed the pages. She met Lexa’s gaze. “So, how did it go?” She asked.

Lexa’s mouth split into a wide smile. “It was great. Honestly, I had a lot of fun. There were a few in the middle that I had to guess on, but I think I did well.”

Clarke looked at her, quiet smile on her lips.

“What?” Said Lexa.

Clarke shrugged, still smiling softly. “I just don’t think I’ve seen you have this much fun yet.”

Lexa scoffed, “I know how to have fun, Clarke.”

Clarke laughed, “I’m sure you do, commander. I just haven’t seen you have quite so much fun here. I’m happy you enjoyed the Quickfire.”

Lexa considered that. “I suppose– I suppose I enjoy a mystery.”

Clarke hummed in appreciation. “Me too. I haven’t been challenged like that in a while.”

“I have,” said Lexa.

“Really?”

Lexa nodded. “I’ve been trying to recreate your eggs Benedict for months at my restaurant and I can’t get it quite right. I’m missing an ingredient and I don’t know what it is.”

Clarke’s eyes widened. “You’ve been to my restaurant?”

Lexa nodded. “Quite a few times actually,” she said. “It’s only a few blocks from where Anya and I live.”

“Lexa,” Clarke said, reaching slowly for her hand. Lexa didn’t know what Clarke was going to say after her name or if she was going to take her hand because Padma walked back into the room.

Clarke rolled her eyes, leaning back in her chair. “One of these days we’re going to finish a conversation without someone interrupting us,” she huffed.

Lexa chuckled lightly, “Maybe one day, prisa.”

XX

Padma shared their results and Lexa thought only a few were surprising. There were twenty items to identify and most of the chefs had gotten between eight and twelve items correct. The three chefs at the bottom of the Quickfire were Bellamy with six, Emori with six, and Ontari with only two correct guesses. Lexa took in the young chef from Ice Nation. She looked like she wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Lexa had a hard time feeling too bad for her since her earlier interactions with Ontari could only really be classified as hostile. Lexa didn’t like the young chef much.

There were four chefs at the top of the Quickfire. Lexa had gotten fifteen of the ingredients right, Raven had correctly guessed sixteen of the items Clarke had identified a whopping eighteen out of the twenty items. Lexa couldn’t help but be impressed by that. 

“And the last chef set a Top Chef record,” Padma said. “We’ve never had someone on any season of Top Chef guess all twenty items. Today that happened. Congratulations to Lincoln for having the most honed palette of any cheftestant ever to appear on Top Chef. You’ll receive immunity in the next challenge and an advantage.”

All of the chefs clapped and cheered for their fellow competitor. Octavia whooped and gave Lincoln a loud smack on the lips. Lexa could see Lincoln blushing a little but could also see that he was thrilled at the results and the attentions of the young, boisterous chef.

Padma continued, “your next challenge won’t start until tomorrow. You’ll be heading back to the Top Chef House now and you’ll meet me tomorrow bright and early in Galveston. Enjoy your evening chefs. See you tomorrow!”


	8. Episode 3: One Fish, Two Fish (Top Chef House)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A summer evening at the Top Chef House. Clarke helps Lexa with a problem. Lexa talks to Roan. Lexa and Clarke spend some time at their window seat.

The first thing Lexa did when she got back to the Top Chef House was head to the bathroom to take out her contacts and put her glasses on. She hated the contacts and she especially hated touching her eye every morning, but the producers had asked her to consider wearing the corrective lenses to avoid camera glare. It had seemed like a simple enough request, but Lexa regretted giving in now. Because now found her standing in her shared bathroom, tears streaming down her face, and a lost contact rolling around somewhere in the back of her right eye.

“Ugh,” she groaned, slamming her hands against the counter. Why did such a small, thin piece of nothing feel like a dagger stabbing her in the back of her eye? 

“You ok in there?” Clarke peaked around the corner. 

Lexa groaned again and sat with a thunk on the toilet lid. “No,” she huffed. “I’ve lost a contact in my eye. It’s in there somewhere and I can’t get it out. I shall just have to be buried with it lodged in the back of my skull or have the eye removed.”

Clarke laughed, “Being a little dramatic about this aren’t we?”

Lexa crosses her arms defiantly, staring Clarke down with her one good eye. “You’ve never known pain like this, prisa. It’s— It’s unbearable.”

Clarke laughed again, moving over to the counter to snag Lexa’s contact solution. “Put your head back,” She motioned.

“What?”

“I said, put your head back. I’ll help you get it out.”

Lexa sighed defeatedly but did as Clarke asked, leaning her head back against the wall. She tried not to move as Clarke got closer to her, leaning over to survey the damage.

“I think I need to be directly over the eye if you want me to help. Is that ok?”

Lexa nodded. Anything to get the cursed contact out. Lexa felt Clarke swing her leg over Lexa’s body and lean in. She was so close, Lexa could feel the warmth radiating off of her skin. She resisted reaching out to touch Clarke, to bring her in even closer. Lexa mentally shook herself. Clarke was only trying to help, not make a move on her.

“Lexa,” Clarke said, breath tickling her face. “I need you to open your eye.”

Lexa opened her eye to stare directly up at Clarke. Her blue eyes shone with laughter. 

Clarke laughed, “Not that eye, you goof. Open the eye with the contact stuck in it.”

“I don’t want to, Clarke. It hurts.” Lexa would have been embarrassed about whining over a small piece of plastic, but her eye really did feel terrible. Stupid producers. 

“Hey,” Clarke said, cupping her cheek gently. “I promise this won’t hurt. It’s going to get the contact out and you’ll feel loads better. Trust me, I speak from experience.”

Lexa huffed, “Fine. Do what you must.”

Clarke leaned over her again and carefully pried her eye open. She gently dropped a few droplets of solution directly onto Lexa’s eye and told her to blink rapidly. Lexa did as she was told and could feel the contact start to move around.

“Just a few more blinks,” Clarke encouraged, pouring just a bit more of the solution in her eye. “Aaaaaand… got it!” Clarke exclaimed. She proudly showed Lexa the little lense delicately balance on her finger tip.

Lexa leaned her head back against the wall. “It still hurts,” she groaned.

Clarke wiped stray tears away from Lexa’s face and hummed in acknowledgment. Lexa sat there and let Clarke tend to her, drying up the spilled solution and putting the offending contact back in its case. She closed her eyes, willing them not to sting. Then she felt Clarke gently place her glasses on her nose and tuck her stray hairs behind her ears. Lexa sighed and leaned into the comforting touch.

“Thank you, Clarke,” she said, opening her eyes. Clarke was still leaning over her, lips turned up in a smile. She wiped a few loose hairs from across Lexa’s forehead.

“Well, I couldn’t very well let the commander be taken down by something so insignificant could I?” She teased.

Lexa grinned in reply. “Please don’t tell anyone about this,” she said.

Clarke shook her head. “No can do, commander. I’ve learned your weakness. Now I have to share it with everyone.”

Lexa laughed, rising from the toilet seat. “You would betray me in such away? I’m hurt, prisa,” she mocked, throwing her hand across her brow dramatically. 

“Please. Like you wouldn’t use any weakness to take any of us out. You’re the commander. You would sacrifice us all to win.”

Lexa’s lips turned up into a devilish smile. She moved to trap Clarke’s body against the bathroom counter. Arms on either side of the other chef, she leaned in searching Clarke’s eyes. “Not you, Clarke,” she said. “I would never sacrifice you.”

Clarke’s breath quickened and she reached up to place her hands on Lexa’s chest. Lexa wasn’t sure if she was about to be pulled closer or shoved away. “Clarke,” she whispered. “Can I–“

She never finished asking her question. Clarke cut her off, closing the distance between them with her lips. The kiss wasn’t a fierce smashing of lips, an explosion of passion. It was soft and questioning. Lexa stood still for a moment, shocked that this was actually happening.

Her shock must have registered as hesitation to Clarke because the blonde leaned back and began to apologize, “Lexa, I’m so sorry. I thought you were asking…”

Lexa shook her head, laughing a little. She brushed a few stray hairs away from Clarke’s face. “I was asking,” she said, leaning down into another kiss. 

Clarke sighed into the firm press of lips, Lexa’s hands gently cradling her face. Their lips brushed one another’s hesitantly. Neither one wanting to take things further, but also not wanting to break apart. It was a perfect moment. 

“Hey!” Bellamy banged on the closed bathroom door. “We’re grilling outside if you want anything.”

Lexa leaned her head into the side of Clarke’s neck, silently shaking with laughter. Clarke pinched her hip, willing her to stay quiet. “Sure,” Clarke said. “I’ll be out in a minute. I’m just finishing up in here.”

“Ok,” said Bellamy through the door. “That invitation is for you too, Lexa.” 

Lexa felt like should hear his smirk through the door, and if Clarke’s cheeks were any indication, she was embarrassed to have been caught in a somewhat compromising position. “Be out in a minute Boy Blake,” she called and she heard him leave.

“Oh my god!” Clarke said, body shaking with laughter. Her body was pressed into Lexa’s, arms draped loosely around Lexa’s waist. “I can’t believe we just got busted by Bell.”

Lexa leaned back to look at Clarke and rolled her eyes, “I mean, I can.” She said. “Every time we try to have a moment someone interrupts us.”

Clarke chuckled, “Have you been trying to have a moment with me, Commander?”

“Aye, prisa,” Lexa said, leaning her forehead on Clarke’s. “I’ve been trying to have a moment with you for three days.”

Clarke leaned up and pressed a light kiss against Lexa’s lips. Lexa hummed contentedly. “What was that for?” She asked.

Clarke shrugged, “because I wanted a moment with you too. Now come on,” she said. “Let’s go see what everyone else is up to.” Clarke scooted her way out of Lexa’s arms and across the bathroom. When she got to the door, she held her hand out to Lexa. “You coming?” She asked.

Lexa looked down at the offered hand and smiled. “Absolutely,” She said, placing her warm hand in Clarke’s.

XX

If ever there was a perfect summer night in Houston, this had to be it thought Lexa. The air was sticky with humidity, but a soft breeze cooled the gathering sweat on her flesh before she became uncomfortable. The trees in the backyard swayed to and fro, and as night approached, small fireflies came out to dance across the lawn. This delighted many of the chefs and left Lexa with a feeling of awe. 

She was manning the grill with Roan, sipping on a glass of lemonade, enjoying a rare quiet evening. She felt like she hadn’t had a moment to decompress like this in years. She flipped a burger over, watching the flames sizzle and hiss. She sighed contentedly.

“Penny for your thoughts,” said Roan, taking a pull from his beer. 

Lexa chuckled, “Like you need a penny.”

Roan shrugged. Everyone knew that Roan Cold was rich beyond reason. His mother was ruthless in business and that ruthlessness had made her one of the wealthiest women in the United States. “All the same,” Roan said. “You look lost in your thoughts. Want to talk about it?”

Lexa smiled softly, “I just– I just didn’t think it would be like this.”

“The competition?”

Lexa shook her head, “No. I mean–yes, but I didn’t think my life would be life this.”

Roan leaned against the tree next to the grill, slowly peeling the label off of his beer. “You didn’t think it would be like what exactly?”

Lexa shrugged, staring out at the other chefs running across the lawn, laughing and shouting at each other in the quiet dusk. “I didn’t think it would be peaceful. I didn’t think I’d have the opportunity to build something, you know?”

“I do,” nodded Roan. “When Azgeda fell after Polis, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever have normal again. How old were you when you left?” He asked quietly.

“Eight,” said Lexa.

Roan hummed in acknowledgment. “I was sixteen when we left. I remember grabbing a backpack, stuffing clothes into it and running to the airport with Echo in tow. My mom had been blocked from coming back into the country when she left for a business trip. So we were on our own. I’ll be honest, I didn’t think Echo and I were going to make it. There were rebels everywhere looting businesses, setting fires, shooting off guns. I don’t think I’ve ever been that scared.”

“But you made it out ok?” Asked Lexa.

Roan shrugged. “More or less. Echo and I were both pretty banged up by the time we found our way to the States. We didn’t have it nearly as badly as Ontari though.”

Lexa looked across the lawn at the young chef. Ontari was currently in a heated debate with John Murphy and, by the looks of it, the debate wasn’t a friendly one. “Ontari is Azgeda?” Asked Lexa.

Roan nodded. “She was a little younger than you when we evacuated. She lost her parents when Azgeda started the civil war and then a sister in the fall of Polis.”

Lexa sighed. It was a story she had heard often. Azgeda and Polis were neighboring countries and part of a larger group of free states called Ton DC. Civil unrest in Azgeda started a war that then spread across all of the other lands. Millions of people died, and millions more had been displaced. Polis and Azgeda had been hit particularly hard during the war and Lexa often felt as if her heritage had been stripped away from her overnight. 

She was the ruler of a country that no longer existed. No one cared about a displaced group of refugee children and a handful of adults. Even getting to the United States had been difficult. She and her cousins had been subjected to something called “extreme vetting.” They spent a year in a refugee camp, barely scraping by before they were allowed to travel halfway across the world to a Polis family that had settled in California. It took ten years after that to finally be granted citizenship and Lexa had felt uneasy relinquishing her ties to Polis, but knew she couldn’t return. Her home was gone now, divided up into a dozen new sovereign states, each with a new ruling family or democratically appointed representative. She was American, but she was still Heda as well.

Lexa took a long drink from her lemonade, wishing it was something stronger. “So is that why Ontari is…”

“Difficult?” Roan chuckled.

Lexa laughed, “That’s not the word I was going to use, but sure. Is the war why Ontari behaves the way she does?”

Roan shrugged and took another pull from his beer. “I don’t know. Echo thinks that Ontari has an overdeveloped sense of fight or flight and that Ontari always chooses to fight since she fled twice and lost everything and everyone she ever cared about.”

“Makes sense,” said Lexa. “She’s still kind of a bitch though,” she laughed good naturedly.

Roan threw his head back and laughed. It was infectious and Lexa found herself laughing along with the long haired chef. Roan leaned across the grill to tap his beer against Lexa’s glass. “To Ton DC and the original twelve clans and the thirteenth we’ve made for ourselves here in the states. And to you, Heda.”

Lexa smiled and took a sip from her drink. “To Ton DC.”

XX

After finishing off the burgers and cleaning the kitchen, Lexa wandered into the back of the house towards her window seat. She was pleased to see Clarke already there, notebook in hand, already sketching away. She walked up quietly behind the blonde woman to peer over her shoulder. “What are you working on,” she said, reaching out to place a hand on Clarke’s shoulder. 

Clarke turned away from her notebook to look up into Lexa’s eyes. A smile spread across her face slowly and Lexa felt her breath catch in her throat. God this woman was beautiful. Lexa leaned down and placed a soft, lingering kiss on Clarke’s lips. Clarke leaned into it just a bit and Lexa felt herself smiling and let out a little chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” Said Clarke, smiling into Lexa’s eyes.

Lexa gestured for Clarke to scoot over on the bench and she slid in next to her, wrapping her arm loosely around Clarke’s waist. She adjusted the blanket Clarke had thrown across her lap until they were both bundled in. Once settled, she leaned into Clarke for another kiss, deeper this time. She felt Clarke pull her closer, and when the other woman moaned just a little, Lexa smiled again.

“You know,” said Clarke, placing a soft kiss on the edge of Lexa’s mouth. “When you smile into a kiss it makes it a little difficult to carry on. It makes the kiss all toothy.” Clarke laughed.

Lexa leaned her head against the wall and felt completely content when she felt Clarke’s head nestle into the crook of her shoulder, free hand tracing the tattoo on her arm. Lexa smiled again. “Sorry. It’s just been a while since I’ve kissed someone. I forgot how great it is. I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. I still can’t.”

Lexa felt Clarke’s body rumble against hers in quiet laughter. She shoved her a little in a mock pout. “Hey. Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not,” said Clarke. “I was just thinking about the fact that I haven’t had to sneak around to make out with someone since high school and I was hoping someone wouldn’t walk in to ruin the moment.”

Lexa rolled her eyes, “That does seem to keep happening.” She looked around the room and listened for voices coming down the hall. “We seem to be alone for now, prisa. What would you like to do?”

Clarke leaned up, humming into a kiss. “Did you bring a book?” She mumbled against Lexa’s lips. 

Lexa nodded, taking her novel out of her back pocket. 

Clarke sighed, snuggling into Lexa’s side. “Read to me, Lexa?”

Lexa smoothed the hair on top of Clarke’s head, and placed a small kiss there. She cleared her throat, opened her book, Howard’s End, and began “One may as well begin with Helen’s letters to her sister…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kisses!!! There were kisses! 
> 
> This work is unbetaed and prone to strange errors as I’m writing this fic on my phone. Sorry in advance.


	9. Episode 3: One Fish, Two Fish (Elimination Challenge)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The challenge is afoot. Some of the chefs struggle. The newest eliminated contestant causes drama. Ontari may be the worst.

3AM was far too early to be awake as far as Lexa was concerned, but here she was. Padma and Tom had invaded the house hours before sunrise and told them to get ready for their trip to Galveston. They were going fishing.

Lexa had never been fishing. Had no desire to fish. Felt that fish was something you cooked, not caught. 

The only thing making this early morning worth it was asleep on the toilet next to her. Clarke had fallen asleep in the middle of brushing her hair and currently had her head leaned back against the wall, eyes closed, and appeared to be snoring softly. 

Lexa snagged both of their toothbrushes and put a little dab of her toothpaste on each. She leaned over the sleeping figure. “Clarke,” she whispered. “Time to wake up, prisa.”

Clarke hummed and shifted on her seat, “just a minute.”

Lexa smiled softly, leaning down to give Clarke a light kiss on the forehead. “Come on, Clarke. We’ve got to start moving.” Lexa felt Clarke’s arms snake around her middle and didn’t put up any resistance when she felt Clarke pull her down onto her lap. 

Lexa looked down at the face currently resting on her chest. She watched as blue eyes fluttered open and then closed again. “Good morning, commander,” Clarke sighed, rubbing her face on Lexa’s bare shoulder. 

Lexa ran her fingers through Clarke’s hair. “We have to get going, prisa.”

Clarke nodded into her shoulder. “Ok,” she huffed. “I just need two things.”

Lexa quirked a brow, “And what are those things, prisa?”

Clarke looked up at Lexa and held up a finger. “First, I need a kiss.”

Lexa laughed and leaned down to give Clarke a kiss on her forehead. When Clarke frowned, Lexa chuckled and gave the chef a sweet kiss on the lips. Clarke hummed deep in her throat and sighed happily. 

“I could get used to that,” said Clarke.

“Me too,” laughed Lexa. “Now, What was the second thing?” 

Clarke reached out, twining a piece of Lexa’s hair through her fingers. She looked up at Lexa, eyes full of something Lexa couldn’t quite describe, “Tell me what prisa means?”

Lexa smiled. She leaned in to ghost her lips over Clarke’s lips, her cheek, her forehead. She felt Clarke lean into her soft touches. Lexa leaned back, cupping Clarke’s cheek. “It’s a term of affection in my culture. The literal translation means princess, but it describes someone delicate, precious, untainted and pure. It’s a person that is pristine.”

Clarke frowned. “I’m not sure I’m any of those things.”

Lexa laughed, “Maybe not, but you feel that way to me. So full of promise and light. You know how to love life in a way that’s reflected in your food. It’s pure. That’s who you are as a chef and as a person.”

“How can you possibly know that?” Asked Clarke.

Lexa shrugged, “Just a gut feeling I suppose.” She felt Clarke shiver a little and the other chef pulled her closer into her body.

“Normally, I would object to being called a princess,” said Clarke. “But I guess I don’t mind being a prisa.”

“Good,” chuckled Lexa. “Now you just have to earn the title.”

Lexa yelped when Clarke pinched her on the hip, and couldn’t help but smile fondly at the blonde woman currently laughing in front of her. Maybe she would learn to love mornings one day.

XX

 

“Good morning, chefs” Padma chirped when they arrived at the docks. Lexa honestly thought it was unfair that Padma looked so well rested. Was the woman superhuman? She wouldn’t put it past her. At least Tom looked slightly put off by the early hour.

“Behind me is the Gulf of Mexico, gateway to Texas commerce and home to a half-billion dollar industry, fishing.”

“Fishing,” said Tom “is big money for the state. Most of the shrimp we eat in our restaurants comes from just miles off of the Texas/Louisiana coast. Today, we are going to send you on a little voyage.”

“That’s right,” said Padma. “We’re going to send you out on the boat behind me, “The Lucille,” and you are going to see what it’s like to be a real gulf coast shrimper at least for a day.”

“Chefs,” Tom interjected. “You’re going to be able to see the full challenge when you get back to shore, but I think it’s pretty safe to say that it will revolve around seafood native to Texas. For now, go out and enjoy yourselves. The captain of the boat and his crew may have some things to share with you about the local cuisine, and you’ll get a new appreciation for the work that goes into keeping our restaurants open.”

Lexa huffed. She did not want to get on this boat. The Lucille looked like it had seen better days. It was a relatively large shrimping boat, but the paint was worn away in several places and seaweed stuck to the shrimping nets. 

Clarke, however, seemed enchanted by the rickety vessel and grabbed her hand and Bellamy’s to pull them on board. 

Bellamy winked at Lexa as they climbed up the gangplank. “Good morning, commander. Sleep ok?”

Lexa blushed. She and Clarke had been caught dozing on the window seat by the production crew. Now everyone knew that she and Clarke had a flirtation going on. Not that it was really a secret, but Lexa would have preferred to be more discreet. Still, it was hard to feel anything but happy when Clarke was next to her, squeezing her hand in excitement, pointing out all of the different equipment on the boat. 

All of the chefs were in various states of boat apparel, but Lexa thought Clarke looked particularly appealing in her board shorts and bikini top. The sun kissed her bronzed skin, and Lexa could see a dusting of freckles across her shoulder blades. Lexa wanted to reach out and run her fingers across them so badly it hurt a little, but she remained poised for the sake of professionalism and tried not to stare too intently at the woman she’d been making out with for the last 24 hours.

Still, Clarke was a sight to take in. Her smile was wide, eyes sparkling. She was so confident and sure of herself in this moment it took Lexa’s breath away. Lexa hadn’t started calling her prisa for no reason. In this moment, Clarke was carefree and joyous. A quality, Lexa thought, that should be protected and nurtured.

Lexa soon learned that Clarke had spent a summer on a trawler in Maine. She knew all of the ins and out of the boat and declared it very “yare,” whatever that meant. The blonde chef was currently bent over the engine, explaining to Raven and Monty how fuel inefficient the rig was. Anya stood stoically to the side, picking little bits of nothing out of her nails and commenting every once in a while when Raven bugged her.

Lexa sincerely hoped that Anya and Raven worked things out at some point. Anya had been heartbroken to let Raven go, but decided that the young, excitable chef hadn’t been ready for a serious relationship all those years ago. 

Lexa couldn’t help but feel mostly responsible for her cousin’s wounded heart since it was her breakdown that had taken Anya away from Raven in the first place and lead to a massive miscommunication and split between the two temperamental women. She wasn’t sure what signal from Raven her hard headed cousin was waiting for, but Anya had been insistent that the Grounders crew try out for Top Chef when she learned that the Zero-G crew would be joining the cast.

This was a huge gamble for the Woods cousins. Grounders had been successful right from the start of the restaurant, but it had only started turning a real profit in the last two years. Lexa was worried that closing the restaurant for the competition would hurt their business irreparably. They’d never closed for this long before. Grounders was the only home they had, and Lexa couldn’t lose it. She’d sacrifice anything to keep her cousins and her restaurant safe.

XX

They got back to the docks in the early afternoon to find Padma and Tom waiting on them. The judges stood in front of two massive tables covered in baskets full of ice and seafood.

“Did you enjoy your time out at sea?” Asked Tom. 

Everyone nodded along except Bellamy. The open water had not agreed with him and he still looked a little green around the gills. Lexa hopes he could pull it together for the challenge. 

“I’m glad you enjoyed your outing today, and I hope you got to know the crew, since they are who you’ll be cooking for,” explained Padma. 

Tom gestured to the seafood behind them. “Behind me are some of the most common fish and other things found in the Gulf of Mexico. You’ll each have two hours to fix a meal highlighting one of the ingredients. You’ll need to make eight servings.”

“Lincoln,” said Padma. “Because you won the Quickfire, you’ll get to come pick your protein first. Whatever you pick cannot be used by another chef in this challenge.”

Lincoln nodded and walked towards the table. He studied the various options for a moment, eyes flirting over flounder, muscles, clams, red fish, and finally settling on fresh Gulf shrimp. He picked up the basket and headed into the kitchen to start prepping.

Lexa was envious of his slight head start but didn’t have long to reflect on it as Padma yelled “Time starts now!”

And the chefs were off. Lexa ran to the closest table and began inspecting the fresh selection of seafood available to her. Everything looked good. Lexa’s eye was eventually drawn to the flounder and she turned to head to the kitchen, intent on not letting her cousin get too far ahead of her.

As she turned she saw Clarke crouched over Bellamy’s heaving form. She was gently rubbing circles into his back. “Clarke,” Lexa called out.

Clarke lifted her head and turned to Lexa. 

“We’ve got to go,” said Lexa. “He’s got to get moving.”

Clarke looked panic, torn between the competition and her friend. “I can’t leave him, Lexa!” She pleaded. “Don’t make me leave him.”

Lexa nodded. She put her flounder down and jogged over to Clarke and Bellamy. “Come on, Boy Blake,” she said swinging his arm over her shoulder. “Let’s get you out of the sun.” 

Clarke helped her get Bellamy into the kitchen and seated on a stool. Clarke grabbed a bottle of water and forced Bellamy to take big gulps while Lexa went to get their ingredients. 

Lexa made it back to the seafood station outside and swore. Her flounder was gone. The only items left were some sort of eel, muscles, and some catfish that Lexa hoped she didn’t get stuck with. She stacked the baskets on top of each other and ran back to the kitchen as quickly and as carefully as she could.

She set the baskets down in front of Bellamy and Clarke. “This is what we’ve got to work with.”

Bellamy looked over at the items, still looking a little green. “Thanks,” he said.

Lexa patted him on the back. “Don’t mention it. I didn’t do it for you.”

Bellamy chuckled. “I’ll just take whatever you two don’t want. It’s fair that way.”

Lexa nodded, but Clarke protested. “Come on now, Bell!” She said. “You’re not feeling well. You should pick something you think will be easy for you.”

He shook his head. “No. Take what you want. Let me deal. Don’t fall behind anymore because of me.”

Clarke opened her mouth to protest, but Lexa reaches out to lightly touch his arm. “We should do as he asks, prisa. We have to start cooking now if we don’t want to end up at the bottom.”

Clarke sighed, but nodded in agreement. “Fine,” She said. “But I’m not happy about this.”

“No one asked you to be,” chuckled Bellamy.

Clarke and Lexa left Bellamy’s side to go look at their supplies. “What do you think?” Asked Lexa.

Clarke shrugged dispassionately.

Lexa took her shoulders and made Clarke look her in the eye. “Hey,” She said firmly. “I need you to snap out of it, prisa. You need to worry about you right now and not Bellamy.”

Clarke teared up some as she shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I just, I want to protect him but I don’t know how.”

Lexa pulled Clarke into her for a tight hug. “I’ll help you,” she whispered, placing a small kiss on Clarke’s forehead. 

Clarke leaned back, eyes shining. “You will?” She said, wiping away a stray tear.

Lexa nodded. “I’ll try to protect him as best I can.”

Clarke inhaled deeply and then exhaled. “Ok. Let’s get to cooking then.”

The next hour flew by. She’d ended up with the muscles, Clarke with the catfish, and Bellamy with the eel. He seemed to be doing a lot better, and the medical team had cleared him to complete the challenge as long as he didn’t throw up again.

Lexa’s muscles were coming along nicely and she had them slowly opening in a wine, lemon, and garlic bath. She just hoped the muscles had a enough time to soak in the flavors of the wine and that she’d gotten all of the grit out of their shells.

She looked over and was pleased to see that Clarke appeared to have recovered. She was making a catfish stew with sweet corn, cornbread and Lexa thought it smelled heavenly. She felt some of the tension leave her shoulders knowing that Clarke would likely be safe from elimination. 

Bellamy had rebounded some and was quickly working on grilling his eel. Lexa thought his knife cuts looked a little sloppy, but thought the judges would overlook that if his flavor profiles were good.

She just hoped it was enough.

XX

After serving the judges and the guests, all of the cheftestants were hauled back to the Top Chef kitchen and the stew room to await the judges’ verdict.

Lexa felt like her dish was fine, but it certainly hadn’t been at the top of this competition. She hadn’t been the only one to struggle though. Murphy was freaking out about potentially oversalting his sauce, Bellamy thought his eel might have turned out a little tough because of the poor butchering, and Anya hadn’t gotten an element on the plate.

Lexa found herself concerned for her cousin and hoped her dish was complete enough to advance her in the competition. It would be a cruel twist of fate to have Anya come so far only to be eliminated now. Raven sat with Anya. It was the first time she’d ever seen the young chef sit still for any length of time. The Latina held Anya’s hand in her own, quietly rubbing her thumb over the back of Anya’s hand.

Clarke was offering similar, but less intimate support to Bellamy. His head was resting on Clarke’s shoulder, ice pack on his head. He was still suffering from being seasick and overheated. Octavia paced in front of them mumbling to herself. 

Clarke offered Lexa a small smile as she ran her hand soothingly through Bellamy’s hair. “Thank you,” she mouthed.

Lexa nodded.

Padma entered the room to let them know the verdict, “We’d like to see Clarke, Raven, Ontari, and Roan.”

The chefs quietly got up to leave the room, Clarke giving Lexa’s shoulder a squeeze on the way out. The wait felt like forever. The chefs were gone for well over thirty minutes and looked exhausted when they came back.

“Ontari won,” Roan said when they entered the stew room. The chefs clapped quietly for the chef. Lexa barely clapped at all as she had noticed along the way that it was Ontari who had stolen her flounder back on the docks.

Ontari smiled wickedly looking around the room. It was almost like she was savoring the bad news she was about to hand out to her fellow contestants. “The judges want to see Bellamy, Anya, Monty, and” she paused, turning to stare at Lexa “The commander.”

Lexa heard Clarke gasp behind her, but turned to head towards the judges’ table without looking back. If she had to go home for this dish, so be it. She’d stand behind her food with her head held high.

The chefs filed into the room where the judges were seated and waited for them to begin. 

“So,” said Tom. “This was a tough challenge for some of you. Overall, the food was good. It wasn’t great, but it was fine. Unfortunately, fine isn’t what we’re looking for on Top Chef.”

“Anya,” said Padma. “Can you tell us what happened today?”

Anya nodded, widening her stance and lifting her chin, “I made a mistake with my timing. There’s no excuse for it. The sauce that should have been included would have tied the dish together.”

Tom nodded his head, “I’d agree with that. To tell you the truth, I tried that sauce earlier in the night. If it had ended up on the plate you might have won this challenge instead of being on the bottom.”

Anya nodded, “Thank you, chef. That means a lot. I will strive to do better.”

Lexa was proud of her cousin for keeping her composure.

She listened to The judges critique Monty’s dish which had been technically perfect but lacked depth of flavor. Lexa thought the complaints sounded minor at best and began to grow nervous for her own turn under the judges’ scrutiny.

“Bellamy,” said Gail. “The flavoring in your dish was sublime, but the eel was over cooked.”

Bellamy nodded. 

“I’ll tell you what didn’t help,” said Tom. “The butchering on the eel was so bad it basically had no choice but to either be over or undercooked. Knife skills are Chef 101. You’re going to have to do better in the future.”

“Yes, chef” said Bellamy.

“Lexa,” said Tom. “Do you know why you are here?”

Lexa shrugged. “I have some thoughts, yes. I’d prefer to hear your first though.”

Tom nodded, “the concept of your dish was classic. The flavors were there, the technique was good, but it feel like you ran out of time to really let the muscles rest and soak in all of that lemony goodness you were trying to incorporate.”

Lexa nodded. “I would agree with your assessment, chef.”

“I understand there were some problems in the kitchen?” Interrupted Gail. Lexa saw Bellamy straighten this back defensively out of the corner of her eye.

“Yes, there were. However, I’d like my dish to be judge for its own merits and flaws rather than concentrating on something unfortunate.”

Tom nodded. “So be it. I do have a question for you though.”

“Yes, chef?”

Tom leaned his head contemplatively on his hands. “I think it’s safe to say that you and Monty will live to see another day.”

Lexa inhaled sharply, sharing a look with Anya.

“What I want to know is,” Tom continued. “In your opinion, which is the greater afront, having a complete dish that just wasn’t very good,” Tom gestured towards Bellamy. “Or having an incomplete dish that was conceptually sound.”

Lexa straightened her shoulders. The head judge was asking her opinion and she needed to give it to him. She knew what she wanted to say, but all that she could see in her mind was Clarke’s blue eyes begging her to protect Bellamy.

Lexa looked over at her cousin and nodded. She turned to face Tom and give her answer. She was the commander.

XX

Lexa sighed as she brushed her hair and put her glasses on. This had been an impossible evening and she felt emotionally drained. She walked into her room and took in the quiet. Lincoln was off somewhere with Octavia undoubtedly. Lexa ran her hand along Anya’s empty bunk and rested her head against the frame. Her decision made her feel sick to her stomach.

Leaving her room, she made her way downstairs and towards the window seat. Clarke was waiting for her there and rose when Lexa entered the room. 

Tears shone in Clarke’s eyes as the two women stood staring at each other. Lexa reached out to take Clarke’s hand only to have her flinch away from her.

“How could you?” Whispered Clarke.

“Clarke, I–“ Lexa stammered. “I-“

Clarke interrupted, “You said you would protect him.” Tears were streaming down Clarke’s face. 

“I tried, Clarke,” Lexa said, reaching for Clarke again. She tried not to be hurt when Clarke moved away from her, putting several feet between the two of them.

“No you didn’t, Lexa.” Said Clarke. “You told them to send him home.”

“No I didn’t,” replied Lexa. “They asked my opinion and I gave it.”

“Bullshit!” Cried Clarke. “You protected your own. You know that Anya had the weaker dish today. We both do! But you still told them to send Bell home. How could you?”

Lexa hardened her gaze, “I could not betray my people, Clarke.”

Clarke let out a watery laugh and threw her hands in the air in frustration, “but you could betray mine? What the hell, Lexa?” 

Lexa stood silently underneath Clarke’s piercing gaze.

“Say something!” Yelled Clarke.

Lexa sighed wearily, “What would you have me say, Clarke?”

“Anything!” She yelled. “Something that explains how your cousin is still here and my best friend went home tonight.”

“I cannot give you the answers you want, prisa.”

Clarke recoiled at the name. “Don’t call me that,” she whispered harshly. “Don’t ever call me that again. Whatever there was between us. Whatever this” she gestured between them. “Whatever this was. It’s over. You’ve ruined it.

Lexa nodded, trying to keep back the wave of emotions coursing through her. “Yes, Clarke. Whatever you want.”

Clarke turned to leave and stopped at the door. “What I want is my friend back,” she said. “What I want are my kisses back. What I want is to crush whatever was growing between us before it ever got started. I’m going to take you down, commander. I’m going to make you regret this decision.” And with that, Clarke stormed out of the room.

Lexa deflated, her body crumpling into the window seat behind her. She could feel tears prickling at the back of her eyes and she willed them to stop as she swiped her arm under her nose. 

She took a shaky breath and then headed upstairs. When she passe Clarke’s room she could hear two sets of sobs coming from inside. One was undeniably Clarke and the other was sure to be Octavia. Her heart aches for the pain she had caused them.

She opened the door and moved inside the room. Anya was there smoothing down the bedsheets. She nodded at Lexa as she came in. Lexa returned the gesture and got into bed, removing her glasses and pulling the covers up over her chin.

“Thank you, Heda,” she heard Anya whisper into the dark of the room. 

Lexa squeezed her eyes shut, willing the day to be over. Trying to forget bright blue eyes staring at her with want, lush lips turned up into a quick smile, and hands clenched in anger as she was left alone. 

Heda was better off alone.

——————————————————————  
Episode 3:

Quickfire Winner/Immunity: Lincoln  
Challenge Winner: Ontari  
Eliminated: Bellamy  
Contestants Remaining: 12  
——————————————————————

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time on “This Love Cuts Like a Knife:” The rise of Wanheda.
> 
> Note: Some people seem to think that Clarke is being overly harsh and should forgive Lexa. At this point, they have really only known each other six days. Clarke has known Bellamy for years. He's one of her best friends. This was the first time Clarke counted on Lexa for her help and she feels let down. I'm sure her reaction is only exacerbated by the fact that they've been up since 3AM and the wear that the competition has had on them physically and emotionally. You'll get to see some of how Clarke reacts to Bellamy's departure in the next chapter. 
> 
> Clexa is endgame in this, but they are going to pick up some bumps and bruises along the way. 
> 
> It might also be time to add that this story is psuedo canon compliant. This is essentially the Top Chef version of Lexa leaving Clarke at Mount Weather. Lexa's not going to die or anything in this story, but we're going to have some of the same beats.


	10. Last Chance Kitchen: Bellamy Vs Maya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We step away from the main competition to see what's been going on with Last Chance Kitchen. Bellamy will be facing Maya head-to-head for a chance to get back into the main competition. Who will win? Who will lose? And how freaking cute is Jasper? All this and more in this episode of Last Chance Kitchen.
> 
> Note: The continuation of the main competition will resume on Sunday's regular post. If you don't want to read anything from Bellamy's POV, feel free to skip this chapter.

Bellamy stood outside the door to the Top Chef Kitchen and took a deep breath. He’d been eliminated from the competition yesterday and he needed to win his first round of Last Chance Kitchen to move into the next round and to, hopefully, make it back on the show at some point.

He’d been disappointed in his elimination. Apparently Bellamy Blake was prone to seasickness. Who knew? He certainly hadn’t. Then, in a cruel act of fate, the challenge had centered around seafood.

Bellamy considered it a minor miracle that he’d been able to compete at all even if it had lead to his eventual downfall. He had Clarke and Lexa to thank for that.

Bellamy supposed he also had Lexa to thank for his elimination, but he really just felt bad for the other chef. He could see how torn she had been about choosing her cousin over him. He wouldn’t have felt the same way if he’d been forced to choose between any of the other competitor and Octavia or Clarke. He would have gladly thrown someone else under the bus to save his family.

He wasn’t sure that this quality made him a better person than the commander. Maybe it made him more loyal, but being moral without a conscience probably wasn’t a good thing. He was going to have to do some thinking about that later.

God, he hoped O and Clarke were doing alright. None of them had planned on being eliminated so soon. Sure, they knew one of them was likely going to be eliminated at some point, but secretly they’d been harboring the hope that maybe, just maybe they’d end up in the final three together.

Bellamy smiled at the thought. If he even had a shot at making it back into the competition he had to beat whoever was behind that door first.

The kitchen looked exactly how he’d last seen it, but with slightly dimmer lighting. Tom stood to the side of a workstation and gestured for Bellamy to join him.

“Welcome to Last Chance Kitchen, Mr. Blake.”

Bellamy nodded.

“Any idea who you’ll be competing against?” Asked Tom.

Bellamy shrugged, “Doesn’t matter. I’m going to win this thing.”

Tom grinned, “I like the confidence. Let’s see if your cooking can live up to it. Tonight, you’ll be competing against Maya.”

Bellamy watched the quiet, pale, shy chef walked back into the kitchen. Jasper was also there, but he was seated on a barstool in a small observation area just off the side of the competition area. The eliminated chef wouldn't get the chance to compete again, but Jasper would get to observe from a distance and offer support and suggestions to Maya and Bellamy. Bellamy was glad that, even if he was eliminated tonight, he'd get to enjoy observing the head-to-head battles in Last Chance Kitchen. Talking a little shit to the other chefs seemed liked fun, and it was certainly more relaxing than actually competing. Jasper waved excitedly at Maya giving her a thumbs up, and Bellamy watched the young chef blush under the attention. 

“How are you this evening, Maya?” asked Tom. 

Maya blushed and mumbled, “I’m good, chef. Ready to win.”

Tom smiled fondly at the young women. “Don’t let her demeanor fool you, Bellamy. Maya kicked Jasper’s butt in the first competition.”

“Hey!” yelled Jasper from his stool. “I resent that! She didn’t kick my butt. I was distracted.”

Tom rolled his eyes. “Yeah. I noticed. Anyway, while Jasper was busy being distracted by Maya’s ability to breathe, Maya was slaying him with a grilled play on surf and turf.”

Maya straightened her shoulders at the complement and beamed as Jasper whooped “Damn right she did!”

“Settle down there, Jasper” admonished Tom. “I don’t want you falling off your seat and injuring yourself. Plus, eliminated contestants don’t usually talk this much.”

Jasper shrugged, “I’m just excited, Chef Tom!”

Bellamy shook his head, chuckling. Jasper’s enthusiasm was infectious. He was ready to get this phase of the show started and hoped that Last Chance Kitchen would be a little kinder to him than the main competition. 

“Chefs,” began Tom. “This season of Last Chance Kitchen is being brought to you by Hidden Valley Ranch.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes. He hated all of the product placement on the damn show. Rav4 this. Glad family of products that. What the hell was Hidden Valley Ranch anyway? Ranch dressing? Powder? Bacon bits? Pick a lane, Hidden Valley!

Bellamy zeroed in on Tom who had moved on from the product placement and into the rules of the competition. “Bellamy, you really struggled with your last dish. Part of that wasn’t your fault since you got seasick. How are you feeling today?”

“Good, chef. Much better now that I’m back on dry land.”

“No chance of vomiting?”

Bellamy laughed, “Unlikely, chef.”

Tom grinned. “Good. These are new shoes,” he chuckled. “Chefs, we’ve got a challenge today that I’m really excited about because it uses a protein that is pretty unusual. Bellamy, I hope you’re ready for this.”

Bellamy smirked, “As long as it isn’t eel, I’m good.”

Tom laughed, “Well, it’s not eel, but you might find you don’t like this protein anyway. Today, you and Maya will be cooking with… snakes!”

“GROSS!” Yelled Jasper. 

Tom shot the playful chef a look. “Like I was saying, you two will be cooking snakes today.” Tom lifted a basket out from underneath the workstation he was standing next to. 

At least the snakes are already dead, thought Bellamy. Beside him he felt Maya shiver. Apparently she wasn’t looking forward to this anymore than he was. He was pretty sure she was mumbling something under her breath that sounded a lot like “eww, eww, gross, gross, gross, shit, shit, shit.”

Yeah, she definitely wasn't thrilled. 

“Maya, you ready?” said Tom.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she squeaked. 

“Bellamy?”

Bellamy nodded. 

“Ok, chefs. You have an hour to make a dish highlighting snake. It can be a tricky ingredient, so use your time wisely.” Tom fished a whistle out of his back pocket, looked at the digital clock behind him, and blew. “Go” he yelled as soon as the whistle died out. 

Maya ran straight for the pantry while Bellamy went to check out the snake basket. There were a variety of dead reptiles in the basket, but Bellamy really didn’t know if there was a difference in flavor profile between them. He knew that snake could get tough and rubbery if cooked for too long, and that it was hard to get strong flavors in. 

Bellamy had an idea that sausage of some sort might work, so he grabbed a snake and ran over to his workstation to begin breaking it down. The snake was slick in his hands and Bellamy was extra careful not to slip and cut himself as he tore threw the skin with his knife. 

“Damn,” he heard Maya shout as he worked. A look over his shoulder found Maya clutching her hand to her chest in pain. Apparently she hadn’t been as careful. 

“That’s ok, babe” yelled Jasper encouragingly from his seat in the peanut gallery. 

Maya rinsed her hand, put a bandaid and glove on and got back to work. Just a day in the life of a professional chef. She even took a moment to blow Jasper a sassy kiss, which he caught dramatically and pressed to his chest. 

Bellamy rolled his eyes and got back to work. 

Time ticked away quickly. Bellamy had to abandon his idea for a sausage when he realized that there was no way to make that happen in an hour. Instead, he settled on a spicy snake meatball. He’d found a baguette in the back of the house and was pretty sure he could pull off a Texas-style bahn mi. He was was working on a quick pickle of carrots and cucumber when Tom called out at the ten minute mark. 

“Shit, shit, shit” he heard Maya swear. 

He chuckled. “You know, they are going to have to bleep all of those out in post production right?” Bellamy teased. 

The other chef dramatically rolled her eyes and waved her knife in Bellamy’s direction. “Like I give a shit about that at this point. Mind your station, Blake. Looks like you have something burning over on the stovetop.”

Bellamy yelped and ran over to his pan where his meatballs were burning. “Shit, shit, shit!” he said.

“Whose swearing now, Blake?” yelled Maya over her shoulder. 

Jasper whooped in appreciation. “That’s right! Get him babe! Show him who’s boss!”

Bellamy knew he was in trouble but thought he could cook three meatballs by the time the clock ran out. Plating was going to be rough though. 

The last ten minutes flew by. Bellamy plated as quickly as possible and was just arranging the last element on his dish when Tom blew his whistle. 

“Time,” the head judge yelled. 

Bellamy and Maya threw their hands up and stepped away from their stations. Chef Tom came around and sampled both of their dishes and asked a few questions. Maya and Bellamy had gone in completely different directions with the challenge, so at least the dishes stood on their own. Bellamy looked at Maya’s dish and knew the decision was going to be tough. The chef had opted for a tomato bisque with a perfectly fried piece of snake on top and a snake skin chip. Her dish looked much more refined than his, but he hoped he could beat her on flavor. He knew his flavors worked on the plate. 

He could win this. He knew he could. 

Tom stepped back from the table and began to speak, “Wow. That was really great. Both of you produced amazing dishes here today and should be proud of the effort. Bellamy, that bahn mi was everything I never knew I wanted from a snake. The meatballs were perfectly seasoned and perfectly cooked. Your pickling was great and your knife skills showed that you have command of the tools in your chef toolbelt. Well done.”

Bellamy nodded.

“And Maya… what can I say? You really highlighted the snake which I loved. That snakeskin chip was an unexpected delight. I think you could probably sell those with the right marketing team. Hell, you could serve those with Bellamy’s bahn mi at any restaurant and probably make a killing. I may just steal that idea.”

Maya beamed under the praise. 

“I’d like to thank you both for making this such a tough decision. Unfortunately, only one of you can continue on from here.”

Bellamy and Maya stood still behind their stations waiting for the final verdict. Bellamy could feel himself willing Chef Tom to call his name. 

“And the winner of this round of Last Chance Kitchen is,” Chef Tom said. “Maya. Congratulations! You’re moving on and are one step closer to rejoining the main competition.”

“Shit, shit, shit,” mumbled Bellamy to himself.


	11. Episode 4: It’s Getting Hot in Here (Quickfire)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to the main event! The competition resumes with a chilling challenge. Lexa speaks her mind. Raven gives her a pep talk. Roan is a good dude. The next challenge is revealed and Lexa isn’t pleased with the surprise.

Another day, another Quickfire thought Lexa. She stood to one side of the kitchen talking quietly to Roan. She tried desperately not to look across to where Clarke stood conversing with Octavia, Lincoln, and Raven. Still, every once in a while, she’d catch herself turning towards the sound of a sharp laugh or catch herself staring at the blonde chef. She wanted to walk across the room and beg Clarke to forgive her, to explain that sending Anya home would have broken her cousin’s heart as well as her own.

But she couldn’t. Well, technically she could, but she wouldn’t. Heda did not apologize for defending her people, but Lexa wanted to very badly. She sighed, turning back to Roan’s methodical explanation of the proper butchering technique of a moose.

Lexa doubted she’d ever be breaking down a moose, but was glad for the company.

This morning had been a quiet hell. Getting ready for the day, sharing a bathroom with Clarke while they both brushed their teeth in silence. Clarke no longer seemed mad. There wasn’t any fire behind the short exchanges, perfunctory exchanges she had with Lexa. Instead, there seemed to only be a lingering sense of disappointment and wariness. 

Lexa hated it. She caught herself looking over at Clarke again just in time for the object of her thoughts to look her way. Clarke’s lips turned up into a sad smile, her blue eyes ghosting across Lexa’s form. She opened her mouth as if to say something, taking a step towards Lexa and then stopped. 

Lexa willed her to cross the room. To come talk to her, even if it was just to yell at her some more. Clarke’s anger was better than her silence.

But Clarke didn’t move. Instead, she turned back to her friends and away from Lexa’s gaze. Lexa swallowed thickly past the lump forming in her throat.

“She’ll get over it eventually,” said Roan, giving Lexa a gentle pat on the shoulder.

Lexa sighed and shrugged, “I don’t think she will. She thinks I betrayed her.”

Roan laughed sorrowfully, “It’s actually worse than that, Heda. You did not betray her. You betrayed her people. For leaders like us, that’s infinitely worse.”

Lexa nodded in agreement, “I suppose that’s true. I would be livid if the same had happened to me. But you think she’ll forgive me?”

Roan shrugged, “I’ve seen you two circling around each other for the last week. You seem to have some sort of understanding between you.”

Lexa nodded, “I thought we did.”

“You do,” Roan confirmed. “It’s obvious to everyone. You know it. Clarke knows it. That’s one of the reasons she’s so upset. She not crazy, Lexa. She’s just hurt and mad. People can get over that if you just give them time. And don’t… you know, send any of her other best friends home.”

Lexa smiled ruefully, and rolled her eyes. “I’m not sure I’d live another day if that were the case. Clarke would kill me, bring me back from the dead, and kill me again if that happened.”

Roan laughed, “Your very own commander of death. Long live Clarke “Wanheda” Griffin.”

Lexa chuckled. “I don’t know that she’d like that particular nickname.”

Roan shrugged, “I don’t know that it matters. It fits though. She’s scrappy. A fighter. She’s not afraid to get knocked around and then get back up to take a swing at you. In fact, I think you had better watch out, commander. With as irritated as she is with you, you might not see a swing coming.”

Lexa laughed loudly at that and didn’t notice the pair of blue eyes that shifted quickly towards her and then away. “Thank you, Roan.”

“For what?” He said.

Lexa chuckled, “for making me feel a little better.”

He smiled, “For Heda– I’d do anything. The clans must be unified now that we are separated.”

Lexa nodded, grasping his forearm. “I’m glad we are taking this journey together Roan kom Azgeda.”

“Me too, Lexa.”

XX

Padma stood in the center of the Top Chef kitchen to the right of an older man with white hair and wearing a blue work shirt. “Chefs,” began Padma. “Texas is home to a lot of things, but one of the pride and joys of the Lone Star State is undoubtedly Blue Bell ice cream.”

The man next to Padma spoke, “That’s right, Padma. My name is Paul Kruse. I’m the CEO of Blue Bell and my family has been running the creamery for over 100 years at this point.”

Lexa nodded approvingly. Legacy was something she respected and something she hoped she’d be able to pass down to her own children some day.

“Blue Bell,” spoke Padma, “Has transformed from a small, family business into an ice cream giant. How popular is it, you ask? Blue Bell dominates 52% of the ice cream market in Texas.”

Paul nodded, “It’s taken a lot to get us to where we are today. It’s truly been a team effort. At Blue Bell we consider our customers part of the team and strive to keep them happy by producing a high quality product at a reasonable price.”

“One of the staples of Blue Bell Ice Cream is their signature flavors,” said Padma. “Outside of classic flavors like homemade vanilla and Dutch chocolate, Blue Bell sells special flavors that are only available seasonally like Southern Blackberry Cobbler and Pumpkin. People wait all year for these flavors to come out and some people even stockpile them in their freezers at home.”

Paul laughed, “Yes, our customers do tend to be very loyal.”

“Your challenge today,” said Padma turning to the chefs, “is to create a new signature ice cream for Paul and for Blue Bell. The winner of this challenge will receive immunity in the next elimination challenge and will have their signature flavor released as a special edition Blue Bell flavor across the state.”

Paul nodded, “I’m looking forward to seeing what you all come up with.”

“Chefs, in order to give you enough time to make your ice cream and have it set, we’re going to give you a full two hours. Use them wisely. Paul, do you have any last word of advice for our chefs?”

Paul shook his head, “Not really. All I’ll say is that ice cream can be tricky. Sometimes less is more and sometimes more puts a smile on your face. It’s really a gamble.”

“A gamble that I’m looking forward to,” said Padma. “Ok. Chefs, your two hours starts now!”

This was the first Quickfire where no one dashed immediately to the Top Chef pantry. Instead, every chef pulled out their ice cream machines from under their workstations to get them plugged in. Lexa knew that the biggest obstacle in this challenge in this Quickfire wasn’t necessarily flavor but actually getting the ice cream to freeze. Two hours seemed like a lot of time, but ice cream was notoriously finicky and could easily take over an hour to set and freeze on a good day. She hoped it was a good day.

XX

Ninety minutes into the competition and Lexa knew she was in trouble. She’d spent too long trying to figure out what kind of ice cream to make. She was paying the price for her hesitation now. Her lemon citrus, white chocolate mixture was spinning in the ice cream machine, but it wasn’t setting the way she wanted. At this point her ice cream should be starting to have a smooth, solid look. Instead, it looked like a slightly yellow slushee.

Definitely not good.

Most of the other competitors had moved on to making the various toppings for their ice creams. She seemed to be the only person struggling with the ice cream itself. Luckily, she did have a delicate white chocolate and lemon zest twill to decorate her dessert with, but that wasn’t going to be enough to win her immunity in the next challenge. She needed actual ice cream for that and not the lemon soup currently sloshing in front of her.

“Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fuck,” she mumbled.

“Hey! That’s my line!” Said Raven from directly behind Lexa. 

Lexa jumped a little, surprised that someone had been able to sneak up on her.

Raven leaned in towards Lexa’s machine and squinted. “Looks like you’ve got a problem, commander,” She said jerking her thumb towards the machine.

Lexa rolled her eyes. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Sloths only poop once a week,” said Raven.

Lexa blinked. “What?”

Raven shrugged. “Something you don’t know.”

Lexa shook her head, “Reyes, I think you might be crazy,” she laughed.

Raven considered that. “Possibly,” She said and then reconsidered. “Probably,” she corrected herself. “But I’m not the one struggling today.”

Lexa sighed and crossed her arms staring at the ice cream, willing it to thicken. “I know,” she conceded. “I’m just not quite sure what to do about it.”

“Well,” said Raven, scratching her arm. “The way I see it, you have two options. The first is opening up the machine and reducing the amount of liquid in your batch. It’ll cool quicker that way but you still may end up with milk mush.”

Lexa quirked an eyebrow. “And the other option?” She asked. 

Raven’s smile widened until it stretched across her entire face. “You go Zero-G.”

“What exactly does that entail?”

Raven took Lexa by the shoulders and shook her playfully. “It requires that you loosen up a bit! Have a little fun. Take a risk. Maybe it works out and maybe it doesn’t, but at least you tried. I know you love the classics. Hell, you could probably cook circles around me head-to-head, but are you creative? Are you innovative? Are you pushing yourself and your art? Are you having fun?”

Lexa considered that. She loved cooking, that much was true. She loved the order, the chaos, and the end product, but Raven might be onto something. Maybe she was too uptight with her skills. This was a Quickfire after all and not the main challenge. She wasn’t in danger of going home if she put up a bad dish. She could afford to take a few more risks.

She smiled broadly at the other chef who let out a loud “Whoop!”

“What was that for,” chuckled Lexa.

“That,” said Raven, shoving Lexa’s shoulder. “That was a Zero-G smile you just gave me. Welcome to the party, commander.”

Lexa laughed at the other che as she walked away. “Thanks, Reyes.”

Lexa turned back to her ice cream. What would a Zero-G Lexa do? Then it hit her.

Liquid nitrogen!

Lexa ran to the back of the kitchen where a large tank sat. It was surrounded by smaller metal cylinders, gloves, and protective eyewear. Lexa quickly grabbed her protective equipment and worked to fill a portable container with liquid nitrogen.

Upon returning to her work station she realized she had a problem. She could put her ice cream in a bowl and pour the liquid nitrogen in, but she couldn’t stir it at the same time. She really needed an extra set of hands. She looked around the kitchen for a potential partner, but everyone looked busy. She was just going to have to do this herself.

She balanced the canister of liquid nitrogen under her arm and tried to pour it into her ice cream as she stirred. A little of the liquid sloshed over the edge and Lexa jerked her hand out of the way to avoid getting burned.

“Jesus, Lexa! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Came a voice from behind her. Lexa sighed, turned around and removed her goggles.

“Hello, Clarke.”

Clarke stood directly in front of her, arms crossed in irritation. “What,” she repeated. “Do you think you are doing?”

Lexa shrugged. “Making ice cream?”

Clarke huffed in annoyance. “I can see that. What I meant was, what are you doing pouring liquid nitrogen in a canister that big by yourself? Are you trying to lose a finger?”

Lexa scratched the back of her neck sheepishly, “Uh, no.” She said. “I was trying to go Zero-G.”

Clarke wrinkled her nose in confusion.

“Like Reyes,” supplied Lexa.

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Of course. I should have known that Raven had a part to play in this. You need an extra set of hand for this, Lexa.”

“I realize that, Clarke,” said Lexa defensively. “We are, however, in the middle of a competition.” She gestured around the room as if to point out the various chefs running around. “Everyone seems a little busy don’t you think?”

Clarke huffed again, “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Lexa squinted at Clarke, angling her head to the side. “You don’t want me to hurt myself? Last night you told me that you’re going to destroy me, and now you don’t want me to hurt myself.”

Clarke shoved Lexa’s shoulder angrily. “I’m mad at you Lexa. Maybe madder than I’ve ever been, and hurt. What you did sucked. But– But I don’t want you getting hurt.”

Lexa’s couldn’t help it. Her heart swelled. Clarke still cared at least a little. Maybe Roan was right. Maybe they could work things out. Lexa at least wanted to try.

“Help me?” She asked.

Clarke nodded. “I’ll help you, but only so you don’t lose a finger.”

“I have very talented fingers, Clarke. It would be a shame to lose one,” Lexa deadpanned.

Clarke narrowed her eyes. “You,” she said, poking Lexa in the chest. “You need to stop that.”

“Stop what?” Said Lexa innocently.

“Stop flirting. I told you last night, we’re done. I can’t trust you. I’m going to help you with this liquid nitrogen issue and then it’s back to being enemies.”

“Fine,” said Lexa. “With one exception.”

“And that is,” said Clarke, moving towards the work station. 

Lexa picked up the liquid nitrogen and started to slowly pour while Clarke stirred. They were through in just a few moments. 

Clarke wiped her hands on her chefs coat. “What was the exception?” 

Lexa leaned across the table and watched as Clarke’s eyes drifted to her lips. Good, she thought. At least something’s still there. “The exception is this,” she husked. “You can be mad all you want. You can’t try and defeat me, to push me out of this competition all you like. But I’m not going anywhere, Clarke. I will be here ready to talk when you are. What I did sucked. I know that, but I also know that you would have done the same thing in my shoes.”

Clarke leaned in to interrupt and Lexa held up a finger to stop her. “I’m not finished,” she said. “We’re leaders. It’s what we do. You lead your people and I, mine. Sometimes that means making tough decisions. I will not apologize for protecting my cousin.”

Clarke moved to interrupt again.

Lexa rolled her eyes, reaching across the table to take Clarke’s wrist. “Stop trying to interrupt and just listen. You’re mad. I get it. Use it. Use it to cook. If being angry with me motivates you, I can live with that. But Clarke…”

“Yes?” Whispered Clarke, wetting her lips.

Lexa looked into her eyes, willing Clarke to actually listen to her. “When you are done being angry. When you’re done hating me… I’ll still be here,” and she released Clarke’s wrist.

Clarke stood opposite from her, an entire workstation between them, breathing just a little more rapidly than normal. She moved to say something and then thought better of it and turned to walk away instead. 

Lexa was bent over her ice cream, surveying the damage when she heard Clarke whisper softly, “I don’t hate you.”

Lexa smiled a little to herself and got back to work. She had a contest to win. If Clarke was going to be gunning for her, she’d need to bring her A-game.

XX

Padma and Paul went around the room resting out he various ice creams. They paused at each station asking the chefs questions about technique and flavor profiles. Lexa was last.

When Paul and Padma got to her station they took a close look at her plating, scooped a bit of ice cream out, and then sampled the sweet treat.

Padma hummed, “Mmmmm, I’ve always had a soft spot for lemon. What do you think, Paul?”

Paul nodded, taking a second bite. “Lemon was a smart choice. We actually don’t have a lemon ice cream in our lineup, so this might be a good addition. How did you freeze the ice cream? I notice yours isn’t as smooth as some of the others.”

Lexa straightened, “I used liquid nitrogen.”

“Why?” Asked Paul.

Lexa shrugged. “I wanted to try something different.”

Padma quirked a brow. She wasn’t buying it. “And that’s the only reason?”

Lexa gestured to the ice cream machine which had obviously been used. “I tried the ice cream machine and it wasn’t working out, so I decided to improvise.”

Paul nodded, humming thoughtfully to himself. “Well, liquid nitrogen and ice cream isn’t anything new. I’m not sure the technique adds any complexity to the dish, and we definitely don’t use liquid nitrogen at Blue Bell, but I applaud the effort.”

Lexa grinned. “Thank you, sir.”

Padma leaned down to grab Lexa’s bowl, “I’m just going to take this with me.”

“Of course, Padma. Help yourself,” chuckled Lexa.

In the end, Lexa didn’t win the Quickfire. She placed in the top three with Raven and Clarke, but failed to snag immunity. Raven was declared the winner of this challenge. Her “Zero-G Infinity Ice Cream” had wowed the judges, and Lexa couldn’t help but notice how Anya beamed with pride as Raven explained that this was a secret recipe that she’d developed many years ago with another very special chef. Lexa knew that chef was Anya, and she thought that, based on the way Anya stared hungrily at Raven, the young chef was well on her way to being forgiven.

“Now that we have immunity out of the way,” said Padma. “It’s on to the actual challenge. This morning you gave me and Paul a taste of Texas sweetness. Tomorrow, you’ll be working with something a little spicier.”

Lexa watched as a group of production assistants wheeled a large table out into the kitchen with a knife block in the middle. Whatever was on the table was covered in a tarp.

Padma continued. “You’ll each come up and draw knives to see what you’ll be working with.”

Each chef took a turn drawing a knife from the knife block. Lexa’s knife just said “ghost” on it. She looked at the chefs near her for a clue as to what the secret ingredient might be. Emori was standing directly in front of her with a knife that said “poblano.”

“Well, that’s not good,” she mumbled to herself.

“You all figure it out yet? Tomorrow you’ll be preparing food for me and a table of six culinary masters featuring,” the production assistants removed the tarps with a flourish. “Peppers!” Yelled Padma.

Lexa groaned. They were going to be cooking for some of the best chefs in the United States and she had just drawn a knife that featured the world’s hottest pepper, the ghost pepper.

Padma winked at the chefs. “Is it me, or is it getting hot in here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you I wouldn’t leave you hanging too long on Clarke’s anger. She can be as mad as she wants, but she’ll get over it eventually. She’s got a whole competion to thaw towards Lexa, and Lexa’s only going to be turning up the heat from here on in. The game is afoot!


	12. Episode 4: It’s Getting Hot in Here (after the Quickfire)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa and Clarke sort things out and establish some new ground rules. Lexa communes with the noodle gods.

The producers were busy doing follow-up interviews with the chefs about the Quickfire results which left everyone else with a little bit of free time and planning time before heading to Whole Foods. Free time and free ice cream seemed like a good way to spend an hour as far as Lexa was concerned. She glared at the knifeblade she’d drawn. 

A ghost pepper.

What the hell was she supposed to cook with that? As far as Lexa knew, you couldn’t even cut a ghost pepper without wearing gloves. They were that intense. She tried to remember where ghost peppers fell on the Scoville scale, but was coming up empty.

She was frowning down at a blank notepad, willing inspiration to strike when Anya came up with two bowls of ice cream. “Want some?” Anya asked.

Lexa nodded, reaching for the bowl. She didn’t bother to look up from her paper, just lifted a spoonful to her mouth and hummed in approval. “Jesus, Anya. This is really good. Who made this?”

Anya waved her spoon over towards the Ark crew and Raven. “The mighty Clarke Griffin, of course. I’m pretty sure the only reason she didn’t win immunity was because her ice cream didn’t freeze all the way before service.”

Lexa nodded. “Hers is certainly better than mine, and my lemon ice cream was pretty damn good. What flavor is this again?”

Anya shrugged, “If you want to know, maybe you should ask her yourself.”

Lexa rolled her eyes, taking another bite of ice cream. “Well if that’s not the pot calling the kettle black, I don’t know what is.”

Anya scowled, “This isn’t about me and my relationship.”

Lexa set her bowl of ice cream down with a thunk, “Oh, isn’t it? Because as I remember it, you are the one that pushed to come on this show in the first place. You know she’s right there. You’re waiting for Raven. Raven is waiting for you. One of you needs to talk.”

Anya huffed, “We talk.”

Lexa crossed her arms, “No, you don’t. Raven babbles and you listen. You’re there as a shoulder for her to cry on, but you haven’t talked. You haven’t figured this mess out yet. One of you is going to get cut from this competition eventually. I can’t save you forever.”

Anya jerked her chin up defiantly. “I do not need saving, Heda,” she all by growled.

Lexa cocked her head, “Don’t you? Because you’re not bringing your A-game, Anya. You’re too busy fretting over every interaction you have with Raven. It’s like you’re in a fog, Anya. Snap out of it.”

Anya narrowed her eyes, and for a moment Lexa was afraid that she would lash out at her. Instead, she nodded and went back to eating her ice cream. “You may have a point,” she said.

“What was that?”

“I said, you may have a point,” said Anya through gritted teeth.

Lexa picked her ice cream back up, waving the spoon like a sword at Anya. “Good,” She said. “Because I can’t sacrifice anyone else to save your lovesick ass. There’s a blonde chef over there that threatened to destroy me a little less than twelve hours ago because of you. Your lack of suaveness is ruining my love life.”

“I’m suave,” said Anya indignantly.

“Sure you are,” said Lexa licking the end of her spoon. 

Anya huffed. “It’s a Dr. Pepper swirl ice cream.”

Lexa studied her bowl. “Is that what this is? Well, it’s really good.”

Anya grinned wickedly, “It is. Not as good as Raven’s though.”

Lexa looked into Anya’s bowl. Anya wasn’t normally big on desserts, but she seemed to be enjoying Raven’s ice cream. “That’s the famous Zero-G ice cream?”

Anya sighed. “Yeah.”

“Is it as good as you remember?”

Anya looked across the room where Raven was loudly entertaining some of the other chefs with a raucous story. She took another spoonful of ice cream, raising it to her lips as she smiled. “It’s better,” she said taking a bite. “Much better.

XX

Lexa was standing in front of a row of noodles in Whole Foods completely lost. She still hadn’t figured out what to do with her ghost pepper. All her brain could come up with was noodles, so here she was. She’d probably make her own noodles from scratch, but looking at an entire grocery store aisle filled with noodly goodness made Lexa feel strangely calm. 

“Pick a noodle. Pick a noodle. Pick a noodle,” she mumbled to herself. 

“It would seem you need to pick a noodle already, commander” she heard Clarke say over her shoulder. 

“Clarke,” Lexa acknowledged without turning around. “If you have a suggestion for a noodle, please let me know. If not, I’m a little busy having a breakdown at the moment.”

Lexa heard Clarke laugh behind her. The other chef came to stand next to her and grabbed a random box of lasagna noodles. 

“Question for you,” said Clarke. 

“Mmhhmmm.”

Clarke shifted the box of noodles back and forth in her hands. “Did you mean what you said this morning?”

Lexa turned, “Which part?”

Clarke shrugged, “I don’t know. All of it? That I would have sacrificed Anya over Bellamy?”

Lexa considered Clarke carefully and nodded. “Yes. Yes, I think you would have.” She turned back to her pasta wall. “That’s not a bad thing though, Clarke.”

Clarke let out an exasperated laugh, “How is that not a bad thing? That we are both ruthless.”

Lexa sighed, “I really don’t have time for this right now, Clarke. But I would like to finish this conversation. Meet me at our window seat tonight and we can talk?”

Clarke shook her head. “I don’t want to talk at the window seat.”

Lexa’s shoulders sagged. She really wanted to explain things to Clarke. To try and mend a bridge, or build a new one, between the two of them. 

“But I’ll talk to you in the kitchen if you want,” said Clarke.

Lexa nodded. “I look forward to it. I must now return to my noodles,” said Lexa grimly.

Clarke laughed again. Lexa loved making her laugh. “What pepper did you get?” asked Clarke.  
Lexa cast her eyes heavenward, “Ghost pepper.”

Clarke gasped, “Oh god. I thought mine was bad.”

“Oh? What pepper did you get assigned?”

“Scotch Bonnets.”

Lexa winced. Scotch Bonnets were almost as spicy as Ghost Peppers. “Ughh. What I wouldn’t give for an easier item.”

“Tell me about it,” Clarke huffed. “On the other hand, I did get to watch Ontari have a meltdown over bell peppers a few minutes ago.”

Lexa grinned wickedly, “do tell.”

Clarke laughed, “I thought you were too busy to talk? I thought you needed to commune with the noodle gods?”

Lexa waved off the suggestion. “The noodle gods can wait. I always have time to hear about an Ontari crisis.”

“You are wicked,” Clarke chuckled.

Lexa smirked, bumping her shoulder against Clarke’s. “You have no idea just how wicked I can be,” she said with a wink.

Clarke blushed and then seemed to remember that she was still upset with Lexa. She took a step back and straightened her shoulders, all signs of the fun, playful Clarke gone.

Clarke shook her head sadly, “Don’t do that, Lexa.”

“Don’t do what?”

Clarke’s eyes were a little glassy as she breathed out shakily, “Don’t flirt with me. I– I can’t take it.”

“Clarke, I–“

Clarke sighed, “It’s ok, Lexa. I get it. I like you too. I feel like– like, I don’t know. I feel at ease around you I guess. I feel comfortable with you. And that’s dangerous for me here. We’re not friends, Lexa. We’re competitors. Maybe if we weren’t here,” she shrugged. “Maybe if we weren’t here trying to protect ourselves and our people, things would be different. But we are. You would protect the Grounders over anyone else and I can’t fault you for that even though last night I did. But I can’t trust you in this environment. I want to, but I can’t.”

“Clarke, I–“ started Lexa again before she lapses into silence. She wanted to tell Clarke that she could trust her. That she would never betray her again, but Heda couldn’t make that promise. She wouldn’t make it. She nodded. “We’ll talk tonight?” She asked hopefully.

Clarke nodded. “Sure, Lexa. We’ll talk tonight.” Clarke smiled a little. “Now get back to talking to your noodles.”

XX

When the chefs got back to the Top Chef House that evening, Echo decided it was time to get in the pool. Lexa thought that sounded lovely. She slipped into a bikini top and board shorts, quickly took out her contacts, and put her hair up in a loose braid. Grabbing a book, a towel and her glasses, she headed outside. She found a good spot in the shallow end and leaned back against the side of the pool, exhaling as she felt the day’s tension leave her body. The competition was taking more of a toll on her than she had expected.

“Mind if I join you?” Asked Clarke waving her own book up. “This seems to be the only spot devoid of splashing,” she gestured to the other side of the pool where Anya and Raven were engaged in a heated game of chicken against Murphy and Emori.

Lexa swept her arm towards the spot next to her, “Go ahead. The water looks nice.”

Clarke nodded and started putting her belongings down by the lip of the pool. Lexa drank her in. Long legs, bronzed skin, she was absolutely stunning in the fading light.

Lexa chuckled.

“What?” Said Clarke, dangling her feet over the edge.

Lexa grinned, “We have on matching bathing suits.”

Clarke looked down. She was wearing a tankini where Lexa was wearing a rather revealing dark green bikini top with yellow stitching. They definitely weren’t matching. She looked at Lexa, confusion etched on her face.

Lexa pointed lower. “Your bottoms.”

Where Lexa had opted for board shorts, Clarke was wearing a bikini bottom with in the exact same green as Lexa’s bikini top and with the exact same yellow stitching. Sure enough, they were wearing different pieces of the same swimsuit.

Clarke laughed, “small world.”

“Looks like you complete me,” Lexa said wiggling her eyebrows.

Clarke threw her head back and laughed. “Oh god. That was truly lame.”

Lexa scoffed, playfully splashing Clarke’s feet with water. “You loved it,” she teased.

Clarke laughed, sliding into the pool next to Lexa. “I really kind of did. You have a terrible sense of humor.”

Lexa frowned. “I have a great sense of humor, Clarke” she said seriously.

Clarke laughed again, patting her sympathetically on the shoulder, “Ok, commander. Whatever you say.”

Clarke hummed as she leaned her head back, floating in the water next to Lexa. Lexa wanted to reach out and touch her in this moment. To pull her hips flush with her own, to weave her hands into the strings of Clarke’s bikini bottom, to kiss her as the sun sank beneath the tree line. She wondered what Clarke’s lips would taste like with a hint of chlorine. 

Lexa tried to stop her train of thought from drifting that direction. Clarke had asked her to stop flirting, so she would stop. Well, she would try to stop. She couldn’t seem to help herself where Clarke was concerned. She let out a deep sigh.

“That sounded intense,” said Clarke. 

Lexa hummed in agreement. “I’m trying to figure out how to be around you without wanting to reach out and touch you or flirt with you.”

Clarke’s eyebrow quirked up, “Really? How’s that coming along?”

Lexa laughed. “It’s terrible.”

Clarke laughed in reply. “It really is. Want to talk about it?”

Lexa shrugged, “I thought we were saving the serious discussion for the kitchen.”

“This will do,” said Clarke. “I just didn’t want to do it at the window seat. I like the window seat.”

“Me too,” whispered Lexa to herself. 

“So, we’re doing this?”

Lexa nodded. “I’m ready when you are.”

Clarke inhaled and then began to speak, “First, I want to apologize for going off on you last night. I was truly upset and angry with you. I’ve mostly talked myself out of it.”

“Mostly?” Said Lexa.

Clarke shrugged, “I come from a long line of Irish-Catholics. Being angry and holding grudges is kind of our thing.”

“Noted.”

“Still, I don’t want to pick up where we left off. I don’t think starting something in the middle of a competition like this is a good idea.”

“Fair enough,” said Lexa. “As long as you aren’t still out to destroy me like you said last night. I’ve got to admit, it was a little terrifying.”

Clarke covered her face in embarrassment, “Oh god. I know. My temper is definitely not one of my best qualities.”

Lexa chuckled, “Did you know that Roan gave you a new nickname?”

Clarke shook her head, “What is it?”

“Wanheda.”

“What?”

“Wanheda,” said Lexa. “It means commander of death. It’s an old Azgeda folktale. Wanheda lead soldiers into battle. She sacrificed for her troops and refused to ever give up or surrender. She was so devoted to her people that eventually she challenged Death himself to spare them. She did not win this battle, but Death was so impressed by her, so struck by her loyalty and fierceness that he devoted himself to her completely. He fell in love with her. And thus, she became Wanheda. The commander of Death.”

Clarke was silent. She floated on the side of the pool watching Lexa carefully. “And Roan thinks I’m like this Wanheda?”

Lexa’s brow furrowed. “I think– I think he sees the same fierceness in you that I see. Roan is also a leader. He understands sacrifice and has made many tough decisions for himself and for his people. He sees the same struggle in you.”

“And in you it would seem.”

Lexa nodded. “This competition has been harder than I expected. We’re not even halfway done, but I can feel a push and pull inside of me.”

“How so?”

Lexa considered. “It’s like – It’s like I’m two people. I’m Lexa and I’m Heda. Both are important and both have needs, but the needs of Heda often trump the wants of Lexa. I’m not sure if that makes sense.”

Clarke nodded, urging her to continue. “It does.”

“Usually, in Napa, I don’t feel this way. I’m Heda at the restaurant and Lexa at home. There’s a separation there that I can’t seem to find here.”

“And you blame me for that?” Asked Clarke.

Lexa shrugged, “I guess I do. What Heda wants and Lexa want are usually the same thing. You and your friends have forced me to reconsider that.”

Clarke hummed. “Is that a bad thing?”

Lexa drew circles along the top of the water in front of her watching the ripples glide across the top. “I don’t know. It makes me feel like I’m not in control and I like to be in control. It helps.”

“Helps with what?” Probed Clarke.

Lexa’s breath hitched. She wasn’t sure she wanted to talk about this. She hadn’t talked about these things with anyone but Anya and Lincoln. Maybe Now was the right time, but what if it wasn’t?

Clarke must have sensed her discomfort because she reached across the pool to touch Lexa’s arm. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Lexa nodded her thanks and was sad when Clarke removed her hand. She missed her touch.

“What are you reading this evening?” Clarke said, changing the subject. Lexa was grateful.

She held up the copy of “Howards End” she’d been reading to Clarke just a few nights ago. “I stopped where we left off.”

“Well, I wouldn’t mind reading a bit more if that’s ok with you.”

Lexa nodded and opened the book to where they’d stopped before. Clarke snuggled into the lip of the pool and closed her eyes. Lexa tried not to think of the graceful lines of Clarke’s neck or the content look on her face.

Instead, she read. “She lay under the earth now. She had gone, and as if to make her going the more bitter, had gone with a touch of mystery that was all unlike her.”

Clarke hummed contentedly, “Now I am become death, destroyer of worlds.” 

Lexa moved the book down. “Do you think Oppenheimer and Forester would have gotten along.”

Clarke thought about it for a moment and nodded. “I do. They both longed for connection and feared technology and the evils man applied to it. So, yes. I think they’d be of like minds.”

“Strange bedfellows,” said Lexa.

“I’ve had stranger people in my bed,” said Clarke.

Lexa forgot to breathe for a moment and then reached over to whack Clarke with her book.

“Hey!” Laughed Clarke, rubbing her arm. “What was that for?”

Lexa pointed her book at Clarke sternly. “If I can’t flirt, you can’t flirt. This is a no flirting zone, Griffin. You can’t break your own rules.”

Clarke pouted, crossing her arms over her chest, “You’re no fun.”

Lexa smirked, “I’d love to show you a good time, Clarke. Unfortunately for us both, you’ve taken that off the table. Now lay back and listen to the story.”

Lexa put the book back in front of her face to continue reading and tried not to laugh at the way Clarke’s mouth hung open, eyes round in shock. Winning felt good.

Lexa: 1  
Clarke: 0


	13. Episode 4: It’s Getting Hot in Here (Challenge)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now back to our regularly scheduled programming...

The chefs piled into the Rav4s at midday and headed towards the Galleria. The Galleria was a typical upscale mall as far as Lexa could tell and was home to all of the high end brands like Coach and Louis Vuitton, and Lexa couldn’t have cared less about all of that. What she couldn’t wait for was to reach their final destination.

Peli Peli was a South African fusion restaurant right in the middle of the mall. Their master chef, Paul Friedman, was an idol of Lexa’s and she couldn’t wait to meet him. Paul was known for rich builds in flavors, the blending of South African spices into classic French dishes, and his love of brunch. Lexa smiled. She loved brunch too.

When they stepped inside the restaurant, Lexa let out a deep sigh of pleasure. The restaurant was decorated in deep, rich wood tones and splashes of reds and oranges. The space felt regal yet inviting, and it certainly felt intimate. It was the perfect place to linger over a meal, to share a story, to flirt unashamedly, and Lexa couldn’t help but steal a look at Clarke while these thoughts ran through her mind.

If anything, Clarke seemed even more impressed than Lexa. Grounders was a lovey space and brought the outside in with lots of natural light and neutral colors. The Ark was different. It had a more urban feel and was decorated with stained concrete floors and metal tables. Both restaurants began humbly and grew into thriving businesses with stellar reputations. Peli Peli was something different though. This was why chefs struggled. This was a dream turned into reality. This was taking clay and shaping it into whatever your mind could come up with.

It was perfection, and Lexa was filled with a want so deep it hurt a little. The chance at creating a restaurant like this was exactly why she’d agreed to come on Top Chef. The exposure and prize winnings could catapult her career to the next level and make a restaurant like this a reality instead of just ideas sketched out on bar napkins and loose pieces of paper.

The kitchen was as dazzling as the front of the house. Lexa could see top of the line equipment from wall-to-wall. Every surface gleamed and she couldn’t wait to start cooking. And in the middle of it all stood Padma and Tom with Lexa’s hero, Paul Friedman. 

“Good afternoon, chefs” said Tom. “Welcome to one of Houston’s best restaurants, and the only South African restaurant in all of Texas, Peli Peli.”

“Chefs,” continued Padma. “South African cuisine is all about building flavors slowly to make for memorable food. In particular, the Peli Peli chili is known for its appearance in various South African dishes. Our guest judge for this challenge, Chef Paul Friedman has taken this concept and elevated it for fine dining while also keeping the heart of South African food alive.”

Chef Paul nodded. “Thanks Padma, I’ve certainly tried my best. Chefs, I’m genuinely honored to have you cooking in my kitchen tonight. Peli Peli is home to me and I hope it will be home to you. Chef Tom let me design the challenge tonight and I hope the peppers I selected haven’t given you too much trouble.” Chef Paul smiled coyly, “Who am I kidding? I know they caused you problems. Every pepper, from the humble bell pepper to the almighty ghost pepper comes with its own unique problems. Tonight, I’ll be looking for the chef that shows creativity, an ability to craft rich flavors, and hopefully I’ll have one or two of you surprise me.”

Lexa smiled. This was exactly the experience she hoped to provide for the judges this evening. She had a lot of work ahead of her, but it was doable. She just needed a clean cook and to keep her head on straight. She felt confident standing next to her cousins. They’d reviewed their dishes together and knew that they would do well in the challenge assuming no catastrophes happened in the kitchen. All they had to do was fight for their spot. Luckily, Grounders were good at fighting.

“Chefs,” said Padma. “You’ll be cooking in pairs this evening and presenting your food to the judges and our guest chefs. Tonight we will be joined by Chef Friedman, Hugh Acheson whom you’ve already met, former Top Chef Richard Blais, Chef Eric Ripert, Graham Elliot, and Houston legend Hugo Ortega. It’s quite a table, so make sure to bring your A-Game. We’ll expect nothing less.”

Tom clapped his hands together, “Chefs, I expect great things from you tonight. Don’t embarrass me. See you at judges table.”

XX

Lexa cracked her knuckles as she looked down at the tiny pepper in front of her. Her face was covered in a small medical mask, her eyes were covered with safety goggles, and she had latex gloves on her hands. Working with ghost peppers was no joke.

She looked over at her cooking partner for this round and winked. Clarke was similarly outfitted and was eagerly waiting for the moment when she could start breaking down her Scotch Bonnets. 

“Good luck,” said Lexa through the light blue mask.

She could see the edges of Clarke’s smile around the sides of the mask. “I don’t need luck today, commander. I’m here to destroy you, remember? You better bring it.”

Lexa chuckled, “Whatever you say, Wanheda.” Lexa rolled her eyes amusedly.

“Begin,” said one of the production assistants and they were off. 

Lexa withdrew a knife and started breaking down her first pepper. There were two parts of the ghost pepper that carried the most heat. The seeds themselves were hot as hell and the oil between the skin and flesh was hot enough to irritate skin if they came into direct contact with your flesh.

Three peppers in and Lexa’s eyes were watering behind her goggles. Even the protective eye wear wasn’t enough to completely protect her from the fury of the ghost pepper. It was like chopping onions times a million. Clarke didn’t seem to be faring much better if her coughs and sniffles were any indication, but the blonde chef was slowly working away on her peppers separating the flesh from the skin.

Lexa could see that Clarke was going with a slightly safer application of the peppers. Lexa was going big. If she wasn’t careful she could very well kill a few taste buds of the visiting chefs which would be truly embarrassing.

She took the skins of her ghost peppers and blanched them in a bath of ice water. Shocking the pepper would help reduce some of the heat and separate out any lingering oils. She also took the seeds and began to roast them in the oven. They would be used in the smoker with a piece of lamb to add smokiness to her dish and a light heat to compliment the other seasonings on her protein. Lexa knew it was a smart way to use the pepper and was the least likely way to cause any irritation while consuming it.

Once the skins were done blanching, she threw them in the food processor to break them down even further. She added pine nuts, garlic, basil, Parmesan, and olive oil to make a spicy ghost pepper pesto to compliment her lamb. She also had a Greek yogurt sauce to serve underneath the dish to help cut through some of the heat. 

Now it was down to the meat. If her lamb wasn’t perfectly cooked she was sunk. Lexa looked at the clock. She had twenty minutes to cook her chops to a perfect medium. It was going to be tight, but she should have enough time to sear her meat, finish in the oven, and let it rest while she began plating her dish. The five minutes for the meat to rest were crucial. If the meat rested too long it would overcook, but if it was served right away Lexa would lose all of the wonderful juices and flavors of the lamb. Lexa knew she needed to be perfect tonight.

She put her chops down and smiled at the satisfying hiss they made in her pan. This was the part of cooking Lexa loved; the heat, the precision. Cooking was often like going to war with yourself and your kitchen staff. Everyone had a job to do and, if not done properly, there was always room for failure. Lexa did not intend to fail.

Especially cooking next to Clarke.

Lexa spared a glance Clarke’s direction and laughed. At some point the evening before Lexa had decided not to do a pasta dish. After hours of debating with herself and with Clarke, the pasta just wasn’t worth the hastle and would mute the flavors Lexa was trying to bring out in the lamb. The lamb was the real star of this dish. Anything else was superfluous.

It would appear, however, that Clarke had been inspired by Lexa’s fixation on pasta. Lexa could see the other chef stirring some sort of pasta in an over sized wok at the other end of the kitchen. Clarke squeezed something from a bottle into the wok and flames licked up the sides of the container.

This competition was definitely heating up. 

After finishing the lamb in the oven, Lexa let it rest in the smoker while she started plating. She selected a set of white, square plates and swiped a streak of her yogurt across the middle with a serving spoon. Once that was done, she took her pesto, which was a vibrant green, and streaked it across the plate in the opposite direction. It left a satisfying yin yang look on the plate and Lexa was pleased with the result. 

“Two minutes left,” yelled Clarke. Lexa could see her furiously plating and scooping sauce onto her dish. 

Grabbing her lamb from underneath the smoker, Lexa carefully set a chop on each plate and carefully placed a few micro greens on top of the protein. She finished just as the time ran out and service began.

Lexa followed the servers out into the restaurant and prepared to tell several of the best chefs in the United States about her dish. She felt surprisingly calm. Clarke stood beside her barely containing herself. Lexa could tell it was from excitement and had to fight back a grin. She was glad the cook had gone well for the other chef. If anyone was going to destroy her in competition, Lexa thought it might turn out to be Clarke.

“Good evening, Lexa. Good evening, Clarke,” said Tom. “Please tell us what you’ve made for us today.

Lexa began, “The pepper I drew was the ghost pepper. Originally, I was apprehensive about using this particular ingredient because of its fierce reputation. However, I realized that ghosts are nothing to be afraid of and neither are ghost peppers if handled properly. My idea was to make something comforting, something someone in my family would make, and to elevate that. So that’s what I’ve done. The lamb is coated with a spice blend, seared, and then finished to medium in the oven. I’ve also smoked it briefly with roasted ghost pepper seeds. This should leave a lingering heat on the dish.”

“The lamb sits on top of a homemade yogurt sauce and ghost pepper skin pesto. Hopefully the yogurt helps cut through some of the heat. Please enjoy.”

Lexa stepped back and Clarke stepped forward to explain her dish, eagerly running her hands together. 

“Recently I was given a new nickname,” she looked at Lexa. “Wanheda. It means commander of death. This nickname seemed particularly fitting due to the nature of this challenge. To command death is to be fearless. So, instead of backing away from flavors, I have embraced them. My peppers, Scotch Bonnets, are known for their heat, but underneath the raging spiciness is a surprising sweetness. You just have to coax it out. You must command the pepper. That’s what I’ve tried to do here.”

“In front of you is a handmade egg noodle. There are freeze dried Scotch Bonnet flakes in the noodle itself which gives the noodles their orange and red color. You’ve also got a Scotch Bonnet cream sauce and wok cooked vegetables. I decided to cook everything in a wok to maintain the flavors of the Scotch Bonnets. On top of this a fried clam drizzled with a Scotch Bonnet vinaigrette . As a warning, this is a very spicy dish but will not scorch your palette. Please enjoy.”

“Than you, chefs” said Tom. “Please return to the kitchen and we’ll see you back at the Top Chef Kitchen for judges table.”

XX

The stew room was buzzing with energy. Most of the chefs were confident in their dishes. The pepper challenge had allowed everyone to grow and adapt, and Lexa was pleased that they were all being allowed to grow as chefs. It was everything she’d ever hoped for when she entered into this competition.

She looked over at Clarke and thought that maybe this was simultaneously the best and worst thing to ever happen to her. She could feel herself becoming better as a chef, but she wanted to share that growth with someone. Clarke had asked that they not explore their feelings for each other but Lexa couldn’t help but be drawn to the other chef. Clarke was bold and brash where Lexa was sly and calculating. Every new thing Lexa learned about Clarke made her like the young chef more. 

Lexa sighed. She was smitten, she admitted to herself, and it felt nice. She hadn’t been smitten in a long time. Not since Costia.

Raven thunked down across from Lexa rubbing her leg. “You ok there, Reyes?”

The brunette grumbled something Lexa couldn’t quite hear but was sure involved swearing. “I’m fine,” said Raven.

Lexa shrugged, “Ok. I was just wondering. You look like your leg is bothering you.”

Raven scowled, “I fell in the kitchen.”

“You what?” Lexa laughed. “Did you seriously fall in the middle of the competition?"

Raven crossed her arms in front of her body and pouted. “It was slippery.”

Lexa laughed again. She felt bad that Raven had embarrassed herself, but the mental image of Raven falling down while she ran around the kitchen like a tornado was pretty amusing.

Anya joined them a moment later, sliding in next to Raven and tossing the injured chef a Ziplock bag. “Ice,” She grunted.

“Thanks,” said Raven. “I don’t think I need it though. I’m already feeling better.”

“Raven Gabriela Reyes, if you don’t put that ice on your damn leg right now, I’m going to murder you. How many times have I told you not to run around the kitchen like a crazy _bruja_ on her broomstick? No wonder you’re always getting hurt. You only care about having fun.”

Raven turned to Lexa, rolling her eyes. “She only nags because she loves me.” 

Raven laughed at her joke, but Lexa saw Anya’s jaw clench. “She’s got a protective streak a mile wide, your cousin. She can’t stand for anyone else to hurt me.”

Anya’s eye twitched. “Anyone else?” She all but growled. “So what you are saying is that I like to hurt you?”

Raven shrugged, “That’s not really what I meant.”

“Well, Reyes” huffed Anya. “What exactly did you mean?” Anya swung her leg over the bench. She was crowding Raven, daring her to talk. Raven seemed stunned by the proximity and serious turn their conversation had taken.

She rubbed the back of her neck bashfully, head bowed, “I didn’t- I didn’t mean anything by it, Anya. I swear. I was just- I was just playing around, you know? Trying to get a rise out of you.”

Anya lifted Raven’s chin with her finger, searching the brunette’s eyes. “Well, it worked. You got a rise out of me.”

Raven gulped. Anya smiled wickedly. “Now what do you intend to do about it?”

Raven blinked and shuttered out a breath. She took the hand holding her face into hers and gave it a tender stroke with her thumb. “I intend,” She croaked out with a cough. “I intend to be very good to you.”

Anya tilted her head, “Oh yeah?”

Raven nodded, “Yes.”

“Why?” Asked Anya.

Raven rolled her eyes, “Come on, Anya.”

Anya shook her head and brought their joined hands to her chest. “Say it, Reyes. Woman up for god's sake. I’ve waited five years, flown halfway across the country, and entered into a freaking reality TV competition for this moment. You’re going to say it or I’m walking away.”

“Anya- I”

“Yes? Go on.”

“Jesus. Will you shut up and let me tell you that I love you?” Raven said heatedly.

Anya leaned back, hands still holding Raven’s, smile stretched wide across her face. “You love me, huh?”

Rave rolled her eyes, “leave it to you to make this torture. Come on, Anya. You know I love you, and I’m sorry it took me this long to get my shit together. I’m sorry I hurt you, and I’m sorry-“

“Raven,” said Anya with a chuckle.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up,” and Anya leaned in to kiss her. Raven leaned into the kiss, pulling Anya in closer by the front of her shirt, Anya’s hands moving to tangle in her hair.

Lexa coughed loudly, “Umm, you all know I’m still here right?”

The two women pulled apart sheepishly, hands still entangled. “Sorry, Heda” said Anya.

“Yeah. Sorry you had to see us swap spit, commander.”

Lexa and Anya both rolled their eyes. “I cannot believe this is the woman you love,” said Lexa.

Anya swung her arm around Raven’s neck, giving the brunette a kiss on the forehead. “Me neither,” she said. “But it’s pretty great.”

XX

Lexa found herself in the winner’s circle with Clarke, Raven, and Anya a few minutes later. Raven and Anya had refused to stop holding hands at judges table and Lexa wondered how the editors were going to make the two newly reunited chefs look like anything other than lovesick fools.

She smiled. She was happy for her cousin.

Tom and the other judges had gone over each of their meals independently and they were now waiting on the final decision of the panel. 

“Chefs,” said Tom. “You each exceeded my expectations in this challenge. Your food was sublime, the presentation was immaculate, and your individual use of the peppers you drew was incredibly clever. You should each be very proud of yourselves for completing such a difficult task. Choosing a winner in this round was almost as hard as choosing a chef to go home.”

Lexa clenched her hands nervously at her sides. She really wanted this win and a chance to impress Chef Paul.

“And the winner is,” said Chef Paul. “Clarke.”

Everyone clapped and cheered at the win and Lexa couldn’t help but be thrilled for the other chef.

“Clarke,” said Chef Paul. “You tackled this challenge with a fearlessness that earned you your new nickname. Your dish was transcendent, and I think it was spicy enough to wake the dead if you let it.”

Clarke laughed, “Thank you, Chef.”

Chef Paul continued, “In addition to your challenge win tonight, I have another prize for you. You and one of the other chefs in this room will have the opportunity to come back to Houston after this competition and shadow me for a week. I’ll teach you both how we meld South African flavors with a fine dining experience at Peli Peli and I’ll introduce you to my business partner so you can learn more about what it takes to keep a restaurant like this open.”

Clarke nodded. This was a big choice, and she didn’t hesitate at all when she said, “Lexa.”

Lexa’s head snapped towards Clarke, “Thank you,” she mumbled, still in shock. “Clarke, I-“

Clarke brushed her thanks away with a flick of her hand. “Seriously, don’t thank me. Your dish was just as good as mine and I know you’ve got a total chef crush on Chef Paul.”

Lexa blushed as Chef Paul laughed loudly, “Well, I hope I live up to your expectations, Ms. Woods.”

Lexa nodded, “Looking forward to it, Chef. Thank you.”

XX

Their group had been sent back to the stew room to wait as the remaining seven chefs went in to meet with the judges. The stew room felt much bigger with only the four of them in it, but Lexa thought it might not be quite big enough since she could see Anya and Raven making out in the corner of her eye. She shuddered. Watching her cousin make out with someone wasn’t exactly a good time for her.

“Hey,” said Clarke handing Lexa a water bottle.

“Hey.”

“So,” she nodded towards Raven and Anya’s intertwined figures. “I guess those two worked things out.”

Lexa cracked the top of the water and took a swig. “Looks like it,” She said.

“Well, I’m glad,” Clarke smiled.

Lexa quirked a brow. “Really? I didn’t think you’d approve.”

Clarke furrowed her brow, “Why not?”

“Because of the competition. You said it wasn’t a good idea to get involved right now.”

Clarke laughed, “I meant for us. It’s not a good idea for the two of us to get involved right now. Other people can do whatever they want.”

“Well that sucks for us,” Lexa joked. 

Clarke nodded, “Agreed. But I can’t see a better option for us. Can you?”

“Well,” Lexa hesitated. “We could do the whole no strings thing. Just keep it impersonal.” She offered.

Clarke considered her for a moment. “Is that what you want? I’m not sure that’s what I’d want from you. From this.”

Lexa breathed out. She was relieved to hear Clarke say that she didn’t want to keep things casual between them. Lexa would have given it a try if it meant she could spend time with the other chef, but Lexa knew what she was going to eventually want from Clarke. She was going to want strings. A whole, messy bunch of them. 

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “That’s not what I want.”

Clarke smiled. “Good. Me neither. Plus, now we can be friends!”

Lexa rolled her eyes in mock insult, “You wound me, Clarke. Just friends?”

Clarke’s laugh tinkled out and Lexa smiled. “Lexa Woods, I’m going to friend you so hard you won’t know what to do with yourself.”

Lexa chuckled, “I thought you wanted to destroy me.”

Clarke shrugged, “I’m pretty sure that’s what I did in this challenge, or am I remembering that wrong?”

Lexa laughed at Clarke’s antics and saw that the other chefs were making their way back into the kitchen. She caught Lincoln’s eye and he shrugged. Lexa let out a deep breath. It looked like both of her cousins would be sticking around another week.

Echo stepped to the front of the group. “It me. I’m going home.”

Lexa was surprised. Echo was a strong chef and Lexa felt bad that the Ice Nation chef would be leaving them so early into the competition.

After all of the chefs goodbye to echo they piled into their cars ready to head back to the Top Chef House and to prepare for the next Quickfire. 

——————————————————————  
Episode 4:

Quickfire Winner/Immunity: Raven  
Challenge Winner: Clarke  
Eliminated: Echo  
Contestants Remaining: 11——————————————————————

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took a few days to breathe and enjoy my birthday. Posts will resume a normal schedule this week. 
> 
> On the next episode of This Love Cuts Like a Knife: The chefs meet some local heroes and the chefs get in touch with their Greek sides. Elsewhere, things are heating up between some of our contestants.


	14. Episode 5: It’s All Greek to Me! (Quickfire)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter we switch back to Clarke’s POV. Raven is cute, but her leg is still giving her problems. Anya is a protective mama bear. Houston celebrities make an appearance. Clarke adopts a “can-do” attitude.

Clarke was still riding her high from winning the pepper challenge when she sauntered into the Top Chef kitchen the next morning. She felt fantastic and more confident in her abilities as a chef than ever before. The excitement of competition thrummed through her very core and she itched to see what the Quickfire would be today. 

She wanted that immunity. 

The other chefs talked and laughed around her and Clarke enjoyed listening to the other competitors harass each other good naturedly. 

Emori and Murphy laughed at something Octavia said, Murphy’s face lighting up. Not so long ago, a smile or a laugh would have been a rarity for the overly serious chef, but marriage agreed with him. As he listened to Octavia gesticulate, Clarke saw his hand slip into Emori’s and give it a gentle squeeze. There was affection in everything the couple did, a sturdiness and sureness in each other that had not wavered throughout the grueling competition. Clarke was happy for them and maybe just a tad jealous if she was honest.

He gaze drifted over to where Lexa talked quietly with Roan and Ontari. The young Ice Nation chef seemed to mostly ignore Lexa opting to pick her nails in feigned disgust instead. Roan and Lexa dismissed the behavior, that was just the way Ontari worked. Clarke didn’t really understand the young chef and her constant negative attitude, but she was envious of her proximity to the woman that was currently dominating her thoughts.

Clarke resisted the urge to walk over to Lexa and slide into the conversation. Two days ago she had been furious with Lexa over sending Bellamy home, but a night of sleep had cleared her head and cooled her temper. She now saw Bellamy’s elimination not as a betrayal, but as the crappy choice that it was. Lexa’s devotion to her crew was something Clarke understood, and was possibly one of the reasons Clarke was so drawn to the chef.

As if Clarke’s thoughts summoned her, Lexa turned her head, green eyes lighting up and a brow raising flirtatiously. Ok, maybe there were other reasons Clarke was attracted to Lexa. Her strength and confidence were magnetic, but Clarke felt most drawn to the woman she’d seen glimpses in between the competition. The woman that work comfy sweats, thick framed glasses, and read sappy love stories. 

Clarke found herself wanting to cross swords with the commander, to feel the fire of competition and the thrill of passion, and she also found herself wanting to curl into Lexa. She wanted to curl into her and lose herself in her voice. She wanted to spend an evening cooking with her for no other reason than to see if they were as compatible in the kitchen as they seemed to be in other areas. 

“Earth to Griffin,” she was pulled out of her daydream by Raven’s voice. She smiled at the other chef who was currently sitting on top of one of the workstations with Anya tucked into space between her legs. Raven’s chin rested on Anya’s shoulder, hands clasped around the other chef’s waste.

Raven and Anya had very much worked things out judging by the pleased look on Anya’s face. It seemed like all of the chefs were paired off except for Lexa, Ontari, Monty, and Clarke, and Clarke reconsidered her decision to keep things platonic with Lexa for the thousandth time that morning. Well, platonic might not be the right word for what she and Lexa were. They still flirted, got caught giving each other lingering looks, and seemed to seek each other out at every opportunity. They just weren’t going beyond that. 

Clarke felt a little like a coward for pushing Lexa away, but the churning in her stomach the other chef caused, the ache in her chest… it was distracting. Clarke couldn’t be distracted right now.

“Jesus, Griffin” said Raven. “I don’t know why I bother trying to talk to you. Your lost somewhere out in space today.”

Clarke chuckled, “Sorry, Raven. What were you saying?”

Raven rolled her eyes dramatically, “I was saying that I can’t wait to get to Restaurant Wars! Can’t you just see it? The final eight going head-to-head with pop-up restaurants. It’s the best! Someone always has a mental breakdown in the middle of it. I can’t wait for the tears.”

Clarke laughed, “Restaurant Wars is still a few days away, Reyes. There’s a lot of competition between us and that challenge.”

“That’s what I said,” responded Anya.

Raven let out an exasperated sigh, “You two are the worst. I’m visualizing is going all the way and you’re bringing me down off of my high. How did I end up in love with someone so rational ? The gods must have been crazy.”

Anya turned her head and narrowed her eyes at Raven. “I think the gods knew that you were bound to accidentally blow yourself up if someone wasn’t constantly looking out for your well being.”

Raven leaned back in mock offense, “That was ONE time, Anya. And I only blew myself up a little.”

Anya chuckled and leaned in for a quick kiss. “Still, I would prefer it if you were more careful with yourself. I like you in one piece.”

Raven leaned into the kiss, goofy grin spread across her face. “Ok. Fair enough. You keep bringing the kisses and I’ll lay off the explosions.”

Anya let out a loud laugh, “Raven Reyes, keeping you away from pyrotechnics is like asking a starving man to resist a feast. I would never ask you to change. I just want you to be more careful.”

Raven tilted her head back in consideration, “I think I can do that.”

“Good morning, chefs” Padma said, waltzing into the kitchen in a form fitting cerulean dress with a squared neck and capped sleeves. “I’ve got two very exciting guest judges for the Quickfire today and for the challenge tomorrow. Houston is many things. It’s home to world class restaurants, philanthropists, NASA, oil and gas, and a burgeoning tech industry. But aside from thriving enterprise, this is a city that knows how to bring people together.”

“Several years ago, Houston was hit by one of the most devastating hurricanes to ever hit the United States. In 2017, hurricane Harvey left Houston underwater and many people without homes. It would have been easy for the city to fall into despair, but instead, the citizens rallied thanks in part to one special man who calls Houston home and a group of young athletes that dedicated a World Championship run and eventual win to their hometown.”

“Without further adieu, is like to introduce you to two staples of Houston athletics and philanthropy. From the 2017 World Series championship team we have José Altuve of the Houston Astros and from the Houston Texans, defensive MVP of the year and philanthropist J.J. Watt.

Clarke whooped and applauded. She remembered the championship run vividly. Watching the Astros play the Dodgers over five years ago was one of the last good memories she had with her dad. They stayed up late into the night to watch the fierce competition and had both been devastated when their beloved L.A. Dodgers finally fell to the ‘Stros. Her father had shrugged it off and just said they’d win next year. Neither of them had known at the time that he’d never make it to the beginning of the next season of baseball.

Clarke wiped away a stray tear at the memory and felt Octavi reach over to take her hand with a gentle squeeze. She knew how much baseball had meant to Jake Griffin and her friend. Clarke hadn’t watched a game since. Baseball wasn’t fun without someone to supply banter and insults. She returned Octavia’s squeeze with one of her own. She was ok now. Jake’s death still crept up on her from time-to-time, but instead of a gnawing emptiness, she now felt a sad but pleasant warmth when she thought of her father. She was more inspired than ever to win this challenge.

“Chefs,” said J.J. in a deep timbre, “I’m so pleased to be a guest judge for you all and I hope you have been representing Houston well so far.”

“If you haven’t, we’ll be coming for you,” joked Altuve.

J.J. playfully rolled his eyes, “This guy is always cracking jokes. Just ignore him. Like I was saying, it’s an honor to represent Houston and all it stands for. This city is often overlooked as one of the best places in the United States.”

Altuve nodded his agreement, “I couldn’t say it better myself. When I describe Houston to people I jokingly say that it’s an amazing place to live and a terrible place to be a tourist,” he chuckled. “Because Houston isn’t about the sightseeing. It’s heart is the people. The culture.”

“I’ve been very lucky to be a part of the Houston family for a long time now,” continued J.J. “And I’m always happiest when I get the opportunity to give back to the town I love.”

“So we’ve got something extra special for you today,” said Altuve.

Padma nodded. “That’s right chefs. Today you’ll be giving back to the city of Houston and its residents. Well, one particular group of residents.”

“Like any large city, Houston struggles with people living on the streets, under bridges, and in their cars.” Said J.J.

“This problem only intensified after Hurricane Harvey,” finished Altuve.

“José and I have been working with a local charity, The Star of Hope, for years to help end the homeless and hunger crisis in Houston and we’ve successfully raised over $3million for the shelter.”

“One of the best services the shelter offers is free food for those willing to cook and clean. As many as two hundred people show up for each meal, but eating from canned goods every mean can get boring after awhile.”

“That’s where you all come in,” said Padma. “The Top Chef Pantry has been completely emptied and restocked with items from the Star of Hope. Your challenge is to create a filling and nutritious meal from the items you find there.”

“Remember that everyone loves to eat. Sometimes this is the only hot meal that people will eat for days,” said J.J. “Let’s try to give the cooks at the shelter a few new recipes to add into their rotation.”

Padma nodded. “And chefs? There’s one more thing. To make this challenge just a bit more difficult, you won’t be able to use your knives.”

A collective groan echoed across the kitchen. None of the chefs relished the idea of giving up their knives. 

“You’ll have thirty minutes to create an absolutely fabulous dish for our guests. Your time starts now.”

Once again, Clarke watched everyone rush towards the pantry. Raven was clambering up the top shelf when Clarke made it to the back, trying to snag a can of corn.

“Got it!” She yelled and jumped down. She landed with a thud and a wince.

“You ok?” Asked Clarke. 

Raven nodded, rubbing her leg. “My leg’s just still a little sore from yesterday. I’ll be fine though.” She started to limp quickly out of the pantry and smacked into Ontari on the way out.

Ontari shoved Raven harshly, “Watch yourself, gasket head!”

“Bite me, Ontari” snarled Raven.

Clarke was worried that the two chefs were going to get into it right in the middle of the competition, but Raven managed to pull her temper under control and hobbled off. Her leg definitely looked like it was bothering her more than she was letting on.

Clarke surveyed the disorganized mountain of cans in front of her. She usually avoided canned goods, as did most chefs. Canned items lost some of their flavor and were prone to turning into a mushy mess if not prepared simply. She tried to think about what she’d want to eat if she was struggling. Something filling, hopefully something nutritious with a nice calorie count, and maybe something hot. 

Clarke had never gone hungry a day in her life, but she knew how satisfying a warm meal could be. She and her dad had spent countless hours making soups and breads together when she was a kid. Hot soup on a cold night was one of the reasons Clarke loved winter.

She grabbed a few cans of beans, some corn, rotel tomatoes, and a can of spam. She was going to make a soup her dad would be proud of. 

When she got back to her station she realized her mistake. In addition to taking her knives, the producers had taken her entire knife bag, including her can opener. All around her the various chefs were smashing cans against the edges of tables and other sharp edges. Clarke looked down. She had eight cans. “Holy forking shirtballs,” she swore under her breath.

“Need a hand?” She heard Emori ask from the next station over. Clarke couldn’t help but notice that Emori’s cans were all lined up and opened.

“What the hell, Em?” Said Clarke. “Did you just rip into those with your bare hands or something?”

Emori laughed, “Not quite, but I do have a secret weapon. Want to know what it is?” She wiggled her eyebrows.

Clarke groaned, “What’s this going to cost me?”

Emori presses a hand against her chest in mock affront. “Me? I would never!”

Clarke rolled her eyes, “Come on, Emori. Cut the crap. I know you want something and I need these cans open. What do you need?”

Emori laughed again. “Fine,” She said. “I’m busted. I need a favor.”

Clarke nodded. “Name it.”

“I want your room.”

“What?”

“Your room at the Top Chef House. John and I are sharing with Monty and he snores.”

Clarke laughed, “My room for open canned goods?”

Emori nodded.

Clarke stuck out her hand, taking Emori’s palm into her own for a firm shake, “Deal. Now help me get these stupid cans open.”

Emori grinned. “With pleasure.”

XX

As it turned out, all Clarke had needed to get the cans open was leverage and force… and a screwdriver. Clarke still wasn’t sure where the other chef had come up with that particular tool, but Clarke was endlessly grateful. A few minutes, and the swing of a cast iron skillet against the screwdriver pressed into the lip of the cans and Clarke had a neat row of items that just needed the lids to be pried off. 

When Clarke asked Emori how she’d come up with the idea, the other chef just shrugged and said “Physics, Griffin.”

Now Clarke was concentrating on her soup. The flavors were definitely coming along and Clarke even had enough time to make a batch of corn cakes roughly the size of a silver dollar. She thought the sweet and spicy would pair well together as well as fill an empty stomach. 

The time ticked away and soon it was time to plate. There wasn’t really a way to plate soup like this artistically, but Clarke was happy with the colors in her bowl and the texture of her corn cake. She wasn’t going to win any points for product elevation in this round, but she hoped that the two athletes could see the appeal of her hearty dish.

“Time!” Said Padma and all of the chefs threw their hands in the air as they stepped away from their dishes.

Padma walked through the room with Altuve and J.J., sampling each dish and asking questions of the chefs. They didn’t linger long at Clarke’s station, but Altuve did quirk and eyebrow upon tasting her soup. “Spicy,” he said. And then they were gone. It was pretty hard to tell if spicy was a good thing or a bad thing in this instance.

Once the judges made it back to the front of the room they began to deliberate. Clarke looked around the kitchen trying to see what everyone else made. There were a few salads, a burger, and Raven had made some sort of tower out of Ramen noodles. Clarke shook her head. Reyes was nuts.

“Chefs,” said J.J. “I want to thank you for taking this challenge so seriously today. Every item was really inventive and tasted amazing.”

“Even your weird noodle tower, Raven” quipped Altuve.

“Get off it, José,” replied Raven. “You know you love my cooking. I’m pretty sure that five extra pounds you’re carrying cake from my restaurant.”

Altuve laughed, grinning up at J.J. “She’s right you know. Best damn food in the city. Tamales that make a grown man want to cry.”

J.J. laughed. “Tamales aside, we have been tasked with choosing a winner today. Honestly, I thought all of the dishes were really great. There are no losers here today.”

“But we do have a winner,” said Padma. “The winner of this Quickfire will receive immunity in the next challenge as well as signed jerseys from our guest judges.”

“Mine’s worth the most money,” teased Altuve.

J.J. just rolled his eyes. “The winner of this challenge made something that just really soothed my soul. Their food had warmth and color.”

“It was packed with flavor, and it was also full of calories which will be great at the shelter.” Said Altuve.

“Ok guys,” Padma gestured to the chefs. “Who won immunity today?”

The two judges looked at each other, turned to the chefs “Clarke!”

Clarke beamed. After winning the challenge last night and immunity today, she felt untouchable.

“Clarke,” said Altuve. “Your soup was delicious. Seriously, you can make that for me any time.”

J.J. nodded his agreement, “Yeah, and those corn pancake things? Holy cow those are good. I could eat like a hundred of those bad boys.”

Altuve grinned, “Better not though. You’re getting slow in your old age, dude.” J.J. swatted Altuve across the back of the head.

“Congratulations, Clarke. You’re on quite the winning streak,” said Padma.

“Thanks,” she responded. It feels good to win, but even better to give a little something back to people in need.”

Padma nodded. “You’ll see kindness like this spread throughout the Houston area. People aren’t afraid to open their homes and cultures up to their neighbors. Houston is a progressive city and is actually the most diverse city in the United States according to recent census data.”

“And with that diversity come celebrations of different cultures. Houstonians are known for their love of ethnic cuisine and exploring the unknown, and luckily for us, we’re in Houston just in time to experience one of the staples of Houston culture, the annual Houston Greek Festival.”

“Chefs,” said J.J. “Your challenge will be to come up with a dish that represents your culture to share in the international section of the Greek Festival. People come from all over Texas to enjoy amazing Mediterranean food and explore Greek history, music, and dance. You all won’t be required to dance, but you will be required to cook.”

“You’ll each get your own booth, $400 to shop at Whole Foods, and two hours today and tomorrow to prep your dish. You’ll need to think smart for this challenge and prepare enough food for roughly 200 guests,” said Padma.

“Don’t disappoint us chefs, and we’ll see you at the festival!” Said Altuve.

“Your time to start planning and heading to Whole Foods starts now,” said Padma. “One, Two, Three, Opa!” She said.

The challenge had officially begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on This Love Cuts Like a Knife: The chefs tackle the Houston Greek Festival. Clarke learns a little more about Polis. Emori and Murphy evict Octavia and Clarke from their room which results in an interesting new roommate situation.


	15. Episode 5: It’s All Greek to Me! (Top Chef House)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First, I’d like to apologize for the late post. I had a smallish issue with AO3 trying to upload the last chapter over and over again. Apparently the site really enjoys Quickfires. I can’t blame it. Quickfires are fun! 
> 
> About the chapter: Major fluff ahead. If you don’t like fluff... why are you even reading this?

“Tap, tap, tap” went Clarke’s pencil as she fidgeted in her seat. The group had returned from Whole Foods and their two hour prep cook an hour ago. Clarke felt good about her dish, a traditional Irish Shepherd's pie, but she was concerned about presentation. 

A street booth like the one she’d be working at during the Greek Festival tomorrow wasn’t exactly ideal for a dish that needed to be scooped up. In a perfect world she’d serve the dish either in a large portion or in one bite. Clarke sketched out a rough idea of a formed presentation using a circle mold and then scratched it out in frustration.

“Ugh,” She exhaled putting her head down on the table in defeat. Thank god she had immunity or shepherd’s pie might very well have seen her herded out of the competition. 

“Tough night?”

Clarke looked up to see Lexa there. She looked good standing in the middle of the kitchen, hair down, loose sweats hanging low over tanned hip bones, and a grin on her face. Clarke blinked. She really didn’t need to be thinking thoughts like that about Lexa.

She pointed at her notepad in frustration, “I can’t make my dish work on paper?”

Lexa tilted her head. “Are the flavor profiles off?”

“No. The contents of the dish are fine. It’s the presentation of the dish at this event that I can’t quite wrap my head around.

“Hmmmmm,” Lexa hummed thoughtfully. “Well, I’ve got a solution for that.”

Clarke raised a brow suspiciously, “Oh really? Anything you want to share with me?”

Lexa leaned over the bar currently separating the two women and gestured for Clarke to lean closer, a mischievous glint in her eye. Clarke leaned in and tried not to think about how Lexa’s hair smelled like citrus, sharp and clean. 

Once Clarke was close enough that Lexa’s lips were almost brushing her ear, she whispered “Grilled cheese.”

Clarke leaned back, confused. “Grilled cheese?”

Lexa crosses her arms over her chest and nodded sternly. “Grilled cheese. It’s the only thing that will work.”

Clarke laughed. “I’m not scrapping my dish to make grilled cheese, Lexa.”

Lexa shook her head, “Not what I meant. Let me clarify. Cook with me?” Lexa rubbed her arm nervously. “You don’t have to, of course. It’s just– when I’m stuck on a recipe, it helps to make something simple. Back to basics I guess?” She shrugged.

Clarke smiled. Lexa seemed so flustered by the simple request, so earnest. How could she say no to that? Clarke hopped off her stool, walked over to the fridge and began to hunt around. 

“Was that a yes?” Lexa said from over her shoulder.

Clarke threw a block of cheese at Lexa and grinned, “That’s a hell yes, Woods.”

XX

Clarke hummed happily to herself as she bit into her grilled cheese. “You may be into something with the Muenster cheese here. It’s really good.”

Lexa nodded, “I know my grilled cheeses, Clarke. I’ve spent years cultivating the exact right combination of breads and cheeses. They may be my life’s greatest accomplishment so far.”

Clarke laughed at the joke. Things felt easy between the two of them. They’d cooked together seamlessly in the kitchen, grating cheese side-by-side, sharing stories as the sandwiches sizzled on the stovetop. It felt nice, intimate, simple. Clarke could use a little more simple in her life at the moment.

“If you ever decide to make a grilled cheese cookbook, sign me up for a copy.”

Lexa chuckled, “Absolutely. I’ll even write a special inscription to you for inspiring it.” Lexa gestured as if writing in the air, “Dear Clarke, thank you for crushing me in competition. My ego and heart may never recover. Sincerely, The commander”

Clarke wrinkled her nose, “sincerely?”

“Not good enough? How about ‘with respect’?”

Clarke shook her head.

“Best Regards? Thanks for not cutting me into literal pieces? Hakuna Matata? Watch out for ghosts? Ted Cruz is the Zodiac Killer? Hugs and kisses?”

Clarke was doubled over with laughter. 

“I’ve got it!” Said Lexa, reaching for Clarke’s notebook. “Can I?”

Clarke nodded and watched Lexa open the notebook to the very first page, scribble something down and then close it, handing it back to Clarke.

“Perfect.”

Clarke opened up to the first page and in neat handwriting it said:

_Dear Clarke,_

_Thank you for crushing me in competition. My ego and heart may never recover. Thank you for inspiring me._

_With endless affection,  
Lexa “The Commander” Woods_

Clarke laughed, closing the notebook. “You’re right. It’s perfect.”

They ate in companionable silence for a while, occasionally sharing small smiles or quiet laughter. Once they were done, the two chefs began to clean up the mess in the kitchen. Side-by-side at the sink, shoulders touching, they worked to wash and dry their plates and utensils. 

Hands deep in warm water, Lexa asked, “So, did you figure out what do to about your dish?”

Clarke shook her head, drying a plate. “Not yet. I’m not sure if there’s anything that even needs to really be fixed. I might just be paranoid, but my gut is saying that I need to figure out a more elegant presentation.”

“Want to talk through the dish?”

Clarke stopped drying, looking at the other chef closely. Lexa shrugged, “You can trust me, Clarke. I promise not to use what we discuss against you.”

Clarke started drying again, “That’s not my hesitation.”

“Then what is?”

“This isn’t a recipe I’ve ever shared with anyone before.”

Lexa wrinkled her brow in confusion, “I thought it was a shepherd’s pie? The ingredients aren’t exactly a secret, Clarke.”

Clarke whipped her kitchen towel out to playfully smack Lexa across the arm. “Hey! I’m not going around making jokes about your heritage.”

Lexa held her hands up in apology, arms covered in soap suds, grin on her face. “Sorry. Continue, please. Why is this special?”

Clarke shrugged, “I haven’t made this recipe in years.”

“Why not?”

Clarke let out a deep breath, “because it’s my dad’s recipe?”

“And it’s a family secret he wouldn’t want you to share.”

Clarke twirled her dishtowel in her hands, “Not exactly. It’s just– This is something he and I would make together. We’d make it the same way every time, tell the same lame jokes, drive mom nuts with the mess we would make.” She shrugged, “It just feels wrong to make it or change the dish without him here.”

Lexa leaned across the sink, taking Clarke’s hand. “I think he’d be thrilled that you are making his dish,” she said.

Clarke nodded, sniffing away a few unwanted tears. “You think so?”

Lexa nodded, “I know so.”

Clarke laughed, “You didn’t even know him.”

Lexa shrugged, “Meh. Doesn’t matter. You obviously loved him a great deal and how could he not love you back? You don’t need me to tell you that, but I think cooking his dish and making it your own might help you remember that, even as you move forward you are still taking him with you.”

Clarke leaned forward giving Lexa a quick kiss on the cheek, watching the other chef’s eyes widen. Lexa held her fingers against the place where Clarke’s lips had just been. “What was that for?”

Clarke lifted her shoulders, “Because you are sweet.”

Lexa blushed. “Anya’s right,” she mumbled.

“Right about what?”

Lexa rolled her eyes, “You’re definitely going to ruin my reputation.”

Clarke’s laugh rang out across the kitchen. “Well, if it means I get to see more of Lexa and less of the commander, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Lexa pouted, “It took me a long time to make that reputation stick.”

“I’m sure it did,” Clarke teased. “But the commander isn’t who you really are, right? I mean, parts of her are you, but it seems like it’s mostly a front.”

Lexa went back to washing her dishes, hands busy with something to distract herself with. “Do you mind if we talk about something else?” She asked.

Clarke could hear the uncertainty in her tone, the smallness. She felt bad for making the woman beside her, who had been nothing but kind to her all evening, uncomfortable.

“Lexa, I–“ she started.

“It’s ok, Clarke. You didn’t do anything wrong. I just– I just don’t want to talk about it right now. Ok?” Lexa looked into her eyes as if begging her to understand.

“Of course. But, Lexa” Clark reached out to take the hand currently resting on the edge of the sink. She curled her fingers into the other woman’s. “I’m here if you decide you do want to talk.”

Clarke felt Lexa give her hand a little squeeze, “Thank you, Clarke.”

Clarke nodded to the few random plates and bowls left on the counter, remnants from breakfast this morning. “What do you say we leave these for someone else? Come help me with my dish?” 

She gave a gentle tug on their entwined fingers, pleased when Lexa followed her back to the small circular table tucked into the breakfast nook. They settled into chairs next to each other and Clarke flipped open her notebook. 

“So, this afternoon I made my beef and gravy and I peeled my potatoes, and diced my veg.”

Lexa nodded along, thumb idly stroking the back of Clarke’s hand. Clarke prayed that she didn’t see the shiver go through her body at the touch or the way her breathing sped up just a fraction. 

She pointed to a rough drawing she’d done of her dish, a traditional shepherd’s pie with rich gravy pouring out and across the plate. “You see what I mean? This would be perfect for the restaurant. It’s rustic and I know the flavors are all there. God, I’ve slaved over the gravy for this. But it’s not right for a street fair. I want one perfect bite.”

“Do you mind if I–“ Lexa pointed at the drawing.

“Of course. Sure.” Clarke pushed the notebook towards her and tried not to miss the warmth of Lexa’s hand in her own. Lexa moved her chair closer, thigh brushing Clarke’s under the table as she stared intently at the shepherd’s pie.

“How are you doing the potatoes? Were you doing a traditional mash and bake?”

Clarke nodded, “I was. That crispy crunch of potato is my favorite part of this dish. It’s also really the only texture available to me.”

Lexa hummed thoughtfully.

Clarke nudged her shoulder playfully, “I can see the wheels turning up there. What are you thinking about?”

Lexa shook her head and smiled, “I wasn’t really thinking of anything in particular. It would appear to me that you have a few options.”

“Go on.”

Lexa turned towards her and Clarke found herself turning to face her as well, knees brushing as they leaned in towards each other. Lexa held up four fingers to count down, “The way I see it, you have four options. You can go rustic, reconstruct, fine dine it up, or deconstruct.”

Clarke nodded, “Ok. I think we’ve established that I don’t want to go rustic. That’s not going to work. And fine dining is really off the table because I didn’t really buy the right ingredients to refine a dish like this. Plus, I don’t want to lose it’s heartiness. I just want to shrink it down to one bite.”

“So that leaves reconstructing and deconstructing.”

Clarke reached for her notebook and pencil, crossing one leg over the other. She put the pencil to her lip and smiled, “Yeah, I think I think I like that.”

“What?” Asked Lexa.

Clarke began to scratch out a rough drawing on a fresh page. She waved Lexa’s question off, asking for a moment. She continued to sketch out a rough idea for a minute or two until she felt a finger brush against her bare leg. She looked up to find Lexa staring off into the distance, watching the sun sink through the kitchen window. She didn’t seem to notice her hand absentmindedly moving lightly back and forth across Clarke’s skin. 

Clarke took a breath and returned to her evolving dish and ignored the shiver running down her spine imploring her to curl into the delicate touch of the other chef. 

Some time later she finished. Leaning back she tossed her book onto the tabletop and leaned back to stretch her back. She didn’t miss the way Lexa’s eyes shifted to take in the smooth expanse of skin revealed from her T-shirt riding up. 

“Lexa?”

“Hmmmm?”

“You’re staring.”

Lexa blushed and coughed to cover her embarrassment, “Ugh, yeah. Sorry about that.”

Clarke smiled, “It’s fine. It’s not like I haven’t spent plenty of time checking you out too.”

Lexa grinned, “Oh, really? Anything you want to share?” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Clarke laughed, “Definitely not tonight, but if I win tomorrow, I may be in a mood to share.”

“So, I have to lose for you to share your secrets?”

Clarke shrugged, “Technically everyone has to lose if I win. And I don’t want you to lose, Lexa. I just want to beat you.

“Well, how do you feel about your dish now?”

Clarke beamed, “Fantastic. If I win tomorrow, it actually may be because of you. You elevated the dish.

Lexa waved off that idea, “Please, all I did was act as a sounding board and put in some time as a part-time easel. You elevate yourself, Clarke.”

Clarke stood and stretched again, It had started to get late without her noticing. “I should probably go check to make sure that Octavia is ok.”

Lexa nodded, “I’m sure Lincoln is taking good care of her.”

Clarke smiled mischievously, “Want to go bug them?”

Lexa nodded quickly and Clarke dragged Lexa upstairs by the arm down to what used to be Murphy and Emori’s room. “Surprise!” She yelled as she slammed open the door only to slam it closed a second later.

Lexa bumped into her from behind, momentum causing her to knock into Clarke. “What was that? I thought we were going in?”

Clarke turned, her face bright red. “Umm, they were busy.”

“Busy?” Lexa’s forehead pulled down in confusion. “Busy doing what?”

Clarke heard a rustling behind the door and then a click. She stepped away as Octavia poked her head out, upper body covered by a thin sheet. “Hey, Clarke.”

“Hey, Octavia”

“Good evening Commander.”

Lexa cast her eyes up, looking anywhere except at Octavia. “Good evening Octavia.”

Octavia leaned against the door, “So, I’ve come to a decision.”

“What decision would that be?” Said Clarke.

Octavia grinned, “I’m keeping the room.”

Clarke laughed, “You can’t keep the the whole room, O. We’ve got to share.”

Octavia nodded. “Right. Contestants do have to share, but we don’t have to share with each other, Clarke. I’m kicking you out.”

Clarke sputtered, “But– But I just moved in!” She gestured towards the room. “All of my stuff is in there. I haven’t even unpacked yet.”

“Which is why it was so easy to move you. Thanks for that, by the way.” Octavia grinned.

“Well, I can’t go back to our room. Emori and Murphy are in there.”

“Thought of that already,” said Octavia. “You’re going to room with Lexa. Lincoln and I already moved Monty in too. Good luck with his snoring. I hear he’s terrible.”

“What?” Said Lexa from over Clarke’s shoulder.

“Yeah, what she said. What? I can’t room with Lexa. If Monty’s already in there then that leaves four people in the room including Anya. There’s only three beds!”

Octavia shook her head. “Anya is officially moved into Raven’s room now that Echo is gone. Oh, and I wouldn’t walk down that way unless you want to overhear some really graphic language. I’m pretty sure I’m scarred for life.”

Clarke threw her hands up in frustration, “Octavia! You can’t just move people around willy-nilly like that.”

“Sure I can, Clarke. I already did.” Octavia leaned away from the door and shut it in Clarke’s face. “Good night, Clarke. Good night, Lexa.” She heard Octavia call out from the other side of the door as the lock clicked into place.

“Well, at least they locked the door this time,” said Lexa.

XX

Monty was already asleep by the time Clarke and Lexa decided to go to bed and Octavia was right… he was loud. Like, really loud. 

“How can such a tiny human make such a large noise?” Said Lexa.

Clarke snorted in an attempt to cover up a laugh. She didn’t want to wake Monty up if she could help it, but she had to agree with Lexa.

They changed into their pajamas quietly in the small space between their beds. Clarke tried to ignore the way they occasionally brushed against each other, warm skin meeting warm skin. 

She settled into bed and saw Lexa kneel next to her mattress, head bowed. Clarke looked away not wanting to interrupt what was obviously a private moment. She heard Lexa whisper something in Trigedasleng and then she stood. 

“Praying?” Asked Clarke.

Lexa shook her head. “Not really. I don’t believe in the gods anymore, but I like to think that the spirits are listening. My people put a lot of faith in spirits.”

“Really?”

Lexa nodded, sitting on the edge of the bed. “In Polis we would go into the woods once a year to commune with nature and to talk to the spirits. The fog would roll in through the trees and we would sit among them quietly, listening for the voices of our ancestors.”

“That sounds nice.”

Lexa nodded, “It is. Anya, Lincoln, and I still take part in the tradition even though Polis is no more. We go in among the redwoods, the tallest trees I’ve ever seen, and watch the fog roll in from the bay. It’s quiet there, so much quieter than home. The forests of Polis were loud with bugs and animals. The redwoods are quiet. They would be scary if not for the protection of the trees themselves.” Lexa paused.

“What?” Said Clarke.

“I was just thinking. If we make it to the finale, we’ll miss it. We’ll miss the day we go into the woods. I hadn’t considered that before.”

“Is that a problem?”

Lexa shook her head, “No. I guess not. It’s just… I haven’t missed it since–“

“Since what?”

“Since my wife died,” Lexa exhaled softly.

It was quiet in the room, the weight of Lexa’s words filling the empty space around them. Clarke didn’t speak. She had a million questions she wanted to ask, but she held back, hoping that Lexa would open up to her in her own time.

Lexa took her glasses off, set them on the nightstand, and crawled into bed. “Good night, Clarke” she said, flicking off the bedside lamp.

“Night, Lexa” Clarke said into the darkness. She lay there awake thinking about the competition, her journey so far, and the woman laying just a few feet away from her.

“Clarke?” Lexa called out into the darkness. Clarke could hear the sheets rustle as Lexa turned towards her.

“I’m awake,” she answered.

“Do you think she can hear me?”

Clarke turned towards the other woman, the outline of her form just visible in the dark. “I don’t know. I hope so. I’d like to think that my dad hears me when I’m talking to him, or he can look down to watch me compete. Who knows?”

Lexa sighed, “Who knows.”

“Lexa?”

“Yes, Clarke?”

Clarke paused, heart beating loudly in her chest. “What do you say to her?”

“ _Mebi oso na hit choda op nodotaim._ ”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s a saying we have. It means ‘May we meet again’. It’s what we say for the dead.”

“May we meet again. I like that sentiment.” Clarke leaned her head back into the pillows and felt herself begin to gently drift into sleep. She thought of Lexa and her wife and of her father. She thought about all of the things she wanted to share with him about her life.

“May we meet again” she whispered as she let sleep take her.


	16. Episode 5: It's All Greek to Me! (Elimination Challenge)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chefs compete at the Houston Greek Festival and we bid farewell to another one of our cheftestants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry for the longish break between chapters. I had to finish mapping out the rest of the story before I could continue. I've got the whole thing outlined now and the Episode Titles will be listed in the notes at the end of this chapter if you want to check them out!

Sometimes the culinary gods just struck. Clarke was in the zone. Her prep had gone well, her flavors were on point, and there was still almost thirty minutes until the guests were going to arrive. Everything was perfect.

She was a wreck.

“Taste this one more time for me?” She leaned a serving spoon across to Octavia.

Octavia rolled her eyes but obediently tasted the sauce on the outstretched spoon. “For the love of all things good in this world, Griffin. It tastes fine,” She all but growled. “Stop freaking yourself the fuck out and let me get back to my own cooking. I’m about two minutes away from serving the judges dry chicken. If I serve J.J. Watt dry chicken I may lose my one and only chance to marry the man.”

Clarke laughed and threw the dirty spoon into her bus tub. “Fine. Fine. I’ll leave you alone. I just hate it when a cook goes too smoothly. It makes me feel like something bad is just around the corner, you know?”

Octavia huffed, turning back to her own burners. The chefs were each paired up in large white tents and would be cooking side-by-side. Clarke considered herself lucky to be paired with Octavia since she could currently see Raven and Ontari yelling at each other across the lawn. She didn’t know what was going on, but it didn’t look good. 

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Lincoln holding Anya back from interfering in the argument. Anya looked ready to rush over to her girlfriend’s defense and throw a punch or two. Again, not good.

“What do you think that’s all about?” She nodded towards the bickering chefs.

Octavia shrugged, “Ontari was probably just being Ontari. That woman is a grade-A, capital letter, bitch. And you know I hate that word.”

Clarke nodded, “Ontari does appear to be… difficult.”

Octavia waved her knife pointedly towards the woman they were discussing. “She’s a bitch, Clarke. Everyone but Roan needs to stay away from her. I don’t know how he keeps her grounded in his presence, but none of the rest of us should get in her way. I’m pretty sure she’s going to end up stabbing someone before this is all over,” she chuckled darkly.

Clarke watched as Roan stomped across the field to get his young chef under control. He barely said three words to Ontari before she turned and skulked back to her work station. Roan seemed to apologize to Raven who was still gesturing angrily towards Ontari under their tent. Roan held his hands up in self-defense and then held his hand out to shake Raven’s. Clarke watched Raven take a long look at the outstretched hand in front of her before she begrudgingly took it in hers and gave it a firm shake. An unsteady peace had been struck, for the moment. 

“What was that all about?” Came a voice from behind her.

Clarke jumped at the noise and would have probably dropped a bottle of olive oil if Lexa hadn’t reached out to steady her. Clarke tried to ignore how close the contact brought her to her new roommate and the firm press of Lexa’s hand on her hip offering steadying support.

Lexa smirked, “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

Clarke swatted her with her towel, “Then you shouldn’t make a habit of sneaking up on people. What if I had a knife. I could have cut you!”

Lexa smiled broadly, “It might be worth it if you promised to kiss me to make it feel better.”

Clarke rolled her eyes, “Is that the best material you’ve got today, Commander? Because I’ve got a dish to finish.”

Lexa laughed, “Fine. I’ll save the banter until after the competition is done. I came over because I seem to remember that you have an extra clove of garlic.”

“I do. Why? Do you need it?”

“Not me. Monty.”

“Monty?” Asked Clarke. “I thought Monty was doing that kimchi with the Korean-style barbecue? There’s no garlic in that.”

Lexa shrugged, “I don’t know. He’s pretty in the weeds right now and asked if I’d see if anyone had any extra garlic. I offered to help him out, but he doesn’t seem to want it.”

Clarke looked over at the tent where Monty was currently hacking away at a short rib. There was no way that was going to be a clean cut of meat. She leaned over into her cooler and grabbed the clove of garlic, tossing it to Lexa. “Maybe ask again if he needs any help? I’m almost setup here. I can come over and give him a hand in a minute.”

Lexa backed out of the tent, ducking her head so it didn’t drag on the edges. “I’ll let him know. And Clarke?”

“Yeah?”

Lexa looked at the sample plate Clarke had put together, “Your dish looks amazing.”

XX

Clarke bent down to look at her dish. She could see the guest beginning to line up just outside their booths. There wasn’t much time now.

She was more than pleased with how her dish had turned out. She’d made thick, round cuts of potato to hold her dish and crisped them, then she layered a creamy pea sauce to act as a foundation for one perfectly cooked beef tip topped with a thick, brown mushroom gravy. Then, to finish it off, a small swirl of airy mashed potatoes with a crisp top. She’d had to improvise a crust by breaking out her brûlée torch, but it had the desired effect. The last element was a drizzle of gravy across the plate and she was done.

The dish looked perfect. It could be eaten easily in one or two bites, and Clarke was pleased with how the richness of the gravy lingered on the palate. She could taste the love in this dish and knew her dad would be proud. With as perfect as it had come out, she had a sneaking suspicion that she would be tempted later on to add it to her ever evolving menu back at The Ark.

The guest started sauntering over right on time and Clarke started really getting to work. It wasn’t easy serving each guest a perfect meal. She was cooking and plating to order which required an extreme amount of concentration and juggling. Throw in some small talk with the guests and she was officially swamped.

Clarke was plating her next round of dishes when Chef Tom walked over, J.J. Watt in tow. “Hey, chef. How’s it going?”

Clarke acknowledged the question with a brief nod and finished the last drizzle of her gravy across the plate. She wiped her hand on the towel tucked into her apron and reached out to shake hands. “Chef, J.J.” She said. “It’s been going well so far today. It’s been a bit busier than I had imagined, but I’m keeping up.”

Tom nodded as she talked, “Good to hear.” He picked up a plate holding it at eye-level to inspect the stacking of the dish. “So, what did you make for us today?”

J.J. was already digging into the dish as Clarke began to speak, “Today I’ve made a deconstructed shepherd’s pie. Each element was prepared separately and then layered together to create flavors profiles that any Irish kid should be familiar with.”

J.J. licked his fingers, “it’s damn good too.”

Clarke laughed, “Well thanks, J.J.”

“Can I have another one?” The athlete asked hopefully.

Clarke scooped two plates up and handed them to him much to his delight.

Tom took a bite and then asked, “So why the smaller, more refined portion? Shepherd’s pie is usually served in kind of a heap. That gravy seeping out of the dish is classic. Why change it?”

Clarke nodded. “Well, I think if I had served this in a restaurant that’s exactly the aesthetic I would have wanted to achieve. The venue today dictated needing something easy. No mess. No fuss. Lots of flavor. At least, that’s what I’m looking for from a street vendor.”

Tom smiled, “Well, I guess we’ll see how you fair overall a little later this evening.”

Tom waved and trotted off to the next tent, J.J. ambling behind him.

“That man has a fine ass,” said Octavia.

“O! What the hell?”

The other chef shrugged, “Sorry? I’m don’t mean to objectify him but he is just– my hormones got kicked into overdrive when he came by. I don’t know what the hell I told Chef Tom about my dish. I could have told him I was serving cat food for all I know. It should be illegal to have muscles like that.”

Clarke chuckled good naturedly. Octavia’s hormones were a known issue. She usually had her libido in check, but every once in a while Octavia’s wild side came out to play. “So you’d take J.J over Lincoln?”

Octavia pouted, staring longingly at the professional football player currently making his way through Monty’s short rib. “No,” she sighed. “J.J. is just a fantasy.” She shrugged. “Lincoln is the real deal. I just like to look and dream. No harm in that, right?”

Clarke’s eyes shifted to Lexa who was sharing an easy laugh with Padma and Gail. Lexa’s lips turned up at the corner and Clarke struggled to repress the memory of Lexa’s lips pressed against hers, stretched into a smile, more teeth than kiss. She sighed, “Octavia, we’re probably both better off if we forget about our daydreams and just stick to cooking today.”

Octavia went back to cooking, shoulders slightly slumped, still pouting. “I know. I know. Still, it’s fun to dream.”

Clarke snuck a look at Lexa before going back to her plating. “It sure is.”

XX

The waiting was going to kill her. Clarke knew it for sure. They judges had been deliberating for over three hours and the tension in the stew room was becoming palpable.

Raven and Ontari were still glaring daggers at each other. Monty looked close to a breakdown. And Lexa had taken of her chefs coat to reveal a black tank top. The revealed dip of collarbone and delicate lines of Lexa’s tattoos made Clarke’s fingers twitch with the need to touch.

She wanted Lexa. Clarke had accepted that almost immediately. She’d have to be blind to not consider the brunette with striking green lovely in the extreme. Lexa’s frame, her build, her confidence, all called to Clarke on some sort of deep primal level. 

But the small pulls? The smiles, nights spent reading, the laughter. Clarke hadn’t been prepared for that. The passion could burn through her. Clarke knew that desire came and went. She was fine with that. But this was something different. Lexa had become a small ember, placed in the cracks of her chest, slowly filling her with warmth to help her breathe again. 

Clarke didn’t know what to do with that– That want. That emotion, whatever it was. The weight of it scared her a little. She’d had serious relationships before, but somehow, Clarke knew that Lexa might mean more than all of those people. That she could wreck Clarke. 

And that was terrifying.

And exciting.

And…

“Clarke,” Octavia nudged her, snapping her mind back into the competition.

She looked up to see Padma in the doorway. This was it. 

“The judges would like to see Murphy, Lexa, Lincoln, and” she paused. Every chef in the room leaned in, willing the last name to be theirs. Padma smiled coyly. “And Clarke,” she finished.

Octavia clapped her on the back, “Clarke! You stud. You are on one hell of a roll.”

Clarke tried not to jump up and throw her fist in the air in excitement, but her elation must have been written across her face. She could feel the stretch of a smile. Her hands shook just a little.

Lexa stepped over to her having redonned her crisp, white chefs coat, holding out her hand to Clarke, offering to help her up from the bench where she currently sat. “Are you ready to decimate us yet again, Griffin?” The other chef teased. “I believe that if you win, you owe me a reward of some sort. I definitely intend to collect.”

Clarke chuckled, linking her hands in Lexa’s and letting the other woman pull her up effortlessly. “If I win, you’ll get your reward as soon as the judges call my name.”

She entwined her hand with Lexa’s and tugged. “Come on, Commander” she said over her shoulder. “I’ve got a challenge to win.”

They laughed all the way down the hallway, through the Top Chef kitchen, and into the open room that housed the judges. Clarke let go of Lexa’s hand to take her place in front of the panel of experts. She could see Lexa standing just to her left, hands clasped behind her back, chin up, eyes cool. Lexa was gone, the Commander had arrived, and Clarke wasn’t sure if she wanted to tickle her until the facade cracked around the edges, or kiss her until she was breathless. Neither was a particularly wise option, but Clarke wasn’t feeling particularly wise this evening.

She felt happy. Ecstatic really. And she wanted to share that with someone. It surprised her to find that she most wanted to share that feeling, the bubbles of joy and laughter, with the woman standing next to her. Usually she shared these moments with O and Bellamy, or sometimes even with a phone call to her mother. Somehow, in just a few weeks, Lexa had become important to her in a way Clarke couldn’t quite put a finger on. It was certainly something she would need to evaluate later. Much later. 

“Chefs,” said J.J. “You all served our favorite dishes of the day.”

Everyone whooped with joy, celebrating with quick hugs and congratulatory pats on the back. 

“It’s true,” said Altuve. “We told you that Houston is a prime example of cultures coming together to make one incredible city and we asked you to share your culture with us. Each of you exemplified that today. Well done.”

“Murphy,” said Gail. “I could eat that mushroom melt every day. What was the inspiration for your dish?”

Murphy shrugged, not meeting Padma’s gaze right away, drawing in a breath. “My family didn’t really have a lot of culture growing up. We didn’t really explore that side of ourselves that much because my parents were too busy just trying to put food on the table. It was tough at times. We didn’t have a lot, but we did have each other. And we had this garden. I know now that we had it because it provided food for us when we didn’t have money to buy our own produce. But I loved that garden, and I loved spending time there with my parents. This meal was made for them. Sometimes,” he shuffled his feet, cleared his throat. “Sometimes you have to create your own culture. That’s what we did in my family, and that’s what I wanted to present today.”

Gail nodded along as Murphy spoke, watching him, encouraging him to continue. “Murphy, I get that. I feel that in this dish. This dish was simple but refined in a way that we haven’t seen from you before in this competition. I feel like you’ve been a little closed off to this competition instead of opening up. If this is what your food tastes like when you do decide to go to those uncomfortable places- consider me a fan. I expect to see more food like this from you in the future.”

Murphy nodded. “Thank you. I’ll do my best not to disappoint you,” he mumbled quietly.

“Lexa and Lincoln,” said Padma. “You both actually gave us different versions of the same dish.”

The cousins nodded.

“Were your worried that doing the same dish might result in one or both of you down on the bottom?”

Lexa jutted her chin out defiantly, “I have absolute faith in my own abilities and the abilities of Lincoln. We probably each chose this traditional Polis dish because it’s the last dish we shared as a family before the country fell. Lincoln is my cousin, but he is really more of a brother. I’m proud to stand beside him at the top or at the bottom of any competition.”

Lincoln nodded, “I think that Lexa has summed up our feelings well. While we did present the same dish, our interpretations should have been different enough so that they were easily defined in strengths and weaknesses. This dish is an important one for me and represents not only what I’ve lost but what I’ve gained in family.”

Clarke’s heart wrenched. Each of the other chefs were so personally connected to their dishes. She was to hers as well, but she wondered at the group of friends she had amassed in such a short amount of time. Their struggles did not define them, but they did leave ripples throughout their lives in various ways. Was it a wonder then that each of them tried to fill this hole with food? 

“Clarke,” said Tom. “Tell me a little more about your dish.”

She took a steadying breath. “My dad loved being Irish.” she laughed. “Well, he didn’t actually know that much about actually being Irish, but he loved the idea of it. He loved St. Patrick’s Day, he loved wearing green, and he loved this dish. He loved making it with me.”

“But you didn’t make that dish,” said Tom.

Clarke nodded, “Right. I didn’t. The dish that my dad and I made together is just for us. The dish I made tonight was for me. It shows my journey as a chef and my ability to adapt. I think this dish would have made my dad proud, and i know he would have loved being able to eat shepherd’s pie without worrying if it was going to drip down his chin and onto his shirt.”

Everyone chuckled. 

“So that’s why I made it this way. Last night a chef reminded me that sometimes the best way to reconstruct something is to deconstruct it. So that’s what I did. I put all of the love my dad had for silly things and used my skills to refine it. I’m proud of the dish I served today.”

“As you should be,” said Gail. “As all of you should be. Chefs, in twenty-three seasons of Top Chef, I’ve rarely seen contestants perform at such a consistently high-level. Several of you and your competitors have already given us what I would consider finale worthy dishes. I can’t wait to see what you all come up with next.”

“Unfortunately,” said Padma. “I can only announce one winner today.” She looked towards her guests hosts.

“The winner today showed heritage and heart,” said Altuve.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Said J.J. “The winner of this challenge showed something that my friend here and I have always known. Heritage is about taking something with you and then sharing that with other people.

“It’s about growing together.”

“And so, we’d like to congratulate the winner of this challenge with something that means a lot to me and Jose.” J.J. and Jose lifted two large frames up from underneath the table. Inside the frames were signed jerseys. “These jersey are from 2017 when Hurricane Harvey hit. They aren’t signed by us, but they are signed by every first responder that helped during the hurricane. There’s over six hundred signatures between the two jerseys.”

“These really mean a lot to us, and we hope it means a lot to you too, Clarke.”

Clarke gasped, “Me?”

J.J. grinned, “Yeah, girl. You won!” He moved to take the framed jersey back, “I mean… if you don’t want this prize, I’ll keep it. I think they are pretty awesome.”

Clarke laughed, “Over my dead body.” She walked up to the judges’ table to retrieve her prize, hugging J.J. and Altuve tightly as she did. She was overwhelmed with gratitude.

“Thank you so much for this,” she said when she returned to her spot with the other contestants.

“And now we’d like you to send a few of your fellow contestants back to see us.”

XX

Clarke stared at the framed jerseys trying to imagine how devastating the destruction of a major city would have been five years ago. She can’t even begin to think about it. Monty and Ontari are with the judges now and she hopes that Monty will be the one coming back to them. 

Raven was pacing back and forth nervously, still limping a little from her fall a few days before. She can hear Anya trying to calm her down. “Please, Raven. Sit with me?”

Raven concedes, but sits in Anya’s lap instead of next to her. She tucks her head into the crook of Anya’s shoulder and sniffs, “I just don’t want him to go home, Anya. If he leaves, I’ll be all alone.”

Anya huffs, “You won’t be all alone, little one. I’m still here. I’m with you.”

Raven leans back, wiping away a stray tear that has managed to fall. She gives Anya a soft kiss, cupping her cheek. “I love you. You know that, right?”

Anya nods solemnly. 

Raven sighs, holding onto Anya tighter. “It’s just- He was there for me after.” she coughed. “After I screwed things up with us. He was there.”

Anya stroked her back, kissing the top of her head, listening.

“He let me wallow and then told me to fix it. I didn’t know how at first, but he was there. He left everything behind for me. Quit his job. Went on this crazy journey with me. For me. He’s the best person I know. I can’t stand to think that he’ll be sent home and that crazy woman will get to stay.”

Clarke looked away. She knew what Raven felt because she’d felt a similar sensation when Bellamy had been cut from the competition. She hoped he was still battling his way through Last Chance Kitchen. It would be nice to see him again, to be a team again. She missed talking to him. He’d probably know what she should do about the whole Lexa scenario. Honestly, she didn’t actually need him here for that she thought, rolling her eyes. She knew exactly what Bellamy would say. He’d tell her to get over herself already and give Lexa a chance. Octavia would tell her to go jump Lexa’s bones, and Clarke would find someway to find a compromise between the two suggestions. It’s what made their friendship work. 

The stew room doors swung open and Monty walked through, eyes glistening with tear. “It’s me” he croaked out. “I’m leaving.”  
Raven rocketed herself into his arms and began to cry. “Please, don’t go.”

Monty laughed, wiping away tears from his face and Raven’s, “It’s not like a I have a lot of say in the matter, boss.” He gave Raven’s shoulders a firm shake. “You- You are going to be amazing ok? You’re going to be fine without me here. You’ve never needed me anyway.”

Raven laughed and pulled him in for a hug, “Maybe I don’t need you, but I want you. Say hello to Jasper for me, ok? I’m going to miss you so much. I love you.”

Monty nodded, “Love you too, boss. I’ll see you at the end of this thing. Blow something up for me?”

Raven nodded, “You know I will.”

Monty pulled away from Raven and began to make his way towards the door. “I’ll miss you all,” he said. “Kick some ass for me.”

 

——————————————————————  
Episode 5: It’s All Greek to Me!  
Quickfire Winner/Immunity: Clarke  
Challenge Winner: Clarke  
Eliminated: Monty  
Contestants Remaining: 10  
——————————————————————

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Episode 1: First Impressions  
> Episode 2: Holy Guacamole  
> Episode 3:One Fish, Two Fish  
> Last Chance Kitchen: Bellamy vs Maya  
> Episode 4: It’s Getting Hot in Here!  
> Episode 5: It’s All Greek to Me!  
> Episode 6: Stuck With You  
> Episode 7: Restaurant Wars  
> Last Chance Kitchen: ? vs ?  
> Episode 8: Something’s Brewing  
> Episode 9: Where’s the Beef?  
> Episode 10: The Beginning of the End  
> Last Chance Kitchen: ? vs ?  
> Episode 11: Blast from the Past  
> Episode 12:All My Exes Live in Texas!  
> Episode 13: Come and Take It! (Finale)  
> Epilogue


	17. Episode 6: Stuck With You (Quickfire)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa has a rough night. Raven has a good time going Close Encounters of the Third Kind during the Quickfire. Ontari gets served in more ways than one. The challenge is revealed.

The Top Chef House was quiet. Every chef had gone to bed immediately after Monty’s elimination. Zero-G was the first crew to lose two members and the thought that anyone could go home next left a fog of apprehension over the rest of the competitors.

Clarke and Lexa had barely said two words to each other while they changed for bed, but Monty’s missing presence was palpable. It hung in the air between them and sliced through their usual banter and flirtatious energy. Instead of staying up to talk or read, Lexa and Clarke decided to just slide into bed and hope for a better tomorrow.

Clarke listened to Lexa pray to the spirits and quietly repeated “May we meet again” when she finished. She fell asleep that night feeling uneasy, and woke up just a few hours later to tossing and turning in the bed next to hers.

Lexa was thrashing in the bed next to her. That was the only way Clarke could think to describe it. Small mewls that broke Clarke’s heart escaped Lexa’s lips as she tried to claw the sheets off of her lanky frame.

“Lexa,” Clarke said, moving next to her bed. “Lexa, wake up. You’re having a bad dream.”

Clarke shook her shoulder gently, trying to urge Lexa to wake up. Lexa didn’t respond, but whimpered brokenly, “Costia. I’m so sorry.” Clarke pulled her hand back as if scalded. 

Lexa was dreaming about her wife. She wasn’t sure what to do. Should she shake her harder, try to snap her out of it? Should she go downstairs and give Lexa some privacy? She didn’t want to intrude on a moment she definitely wasn’t supposed to be seeing.

The choice was, thankfully, taken out of her hands when Lexa bolted awake, sitting straight up I bed, “Costia!” She shouted into the quiet of the room, chest heaving.

Clarke sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching for Lexa’s hand. “Shhhh. Shhhhh. You’re ok. You’re in the Top Chef House. Try to breathe for me, Lexa.”

Lexa turned towards her, eyes blown, breathing still ragged, “Clarke?” She panted. “I can’t– I can’t breathe.” Her breaths came out in shallow pants. She was gasping for air.

Clarke grabbed Lexa’s hand, bringing it to her own chest. “Look at me Lexa.”

Lexa’s eyes met her, full of panic.

“Good,” said Clarke. “Now, feel my heartbeat under your palm. Try to match yours to mine. Breathe with me Lexa. Inhale… and exhale. Inhale… and exhale. Come on, breathe for me, babe. You can do it.”

Lexa nodded, keeping eye contact. Slowly, her breathing evened out. Sharp gasps and pants turned into shaky but steady breaths. Lexa leaned her forehead against Clarke’s, listening to the calm, even breathing. 

They stayed that way until Lexa had calmed down, foreheads pressed together, eyes closed, hand pressed to Clarke’s chest. 

Eventually Clarke shifted only to feel Lexa’s hand curl into her shirt. “Please don’t leave me,” She heard the other woman whisper quietly. 

“I’m just going to get Anya for you.”

Lexa shook her head, eyes still closed. “I’m ok. I swear. Just–Just stay with me for a moment ok? Just until I fall back asleep?”

“Ok, Lexa. Whatever you need. I’m right here. I’m not leaving you.”

Lexa let out a shuddering breath, shoulders seeming to release all of their tension. 

Clarke smoothed back Lexa’s hair, kissing her forehead gently. Lexa hummed at the contact. “Lexa, can we maybe get a little more comfortable in the bed?”

Lexa nodded and they slowly pulled the blankets up, tucked them around their emotionally drained bodies, and Lexa settled into Clarke’s side, hand still resting on her chest. “I’m sorry,” she said, clenching Clarke’s shirt. “I haven’t had an episode like that in a while.”

Clarke ran her hand down Lexa’s back soothingly. “Don’t apologize. I get it. I had panic attacks for a long time after my dad died. I haven’t had one in a few years, but I remember how terrible they were. You’re safe here now, Lexa. Try to get some sleep. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Clarke?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you tell me about him?”

“Who? My dad?” She swallowed thickly.

Lexa nodded into her side. “Something happy? You don’t have to, but it would be nice to hear something light right now.”

Clarke’s chest rumbled with laughter. “Would you like to hear about the time my dad got stuck in a tree and lost his pants?”

Lexa let out a small laugh, “That sounds perfect.”

Clarke started talking, sharing a story she hadn’t told anyone in several years. Occasionally Lexa asked a question or let out a small laugh or yawn, until Clarke eventually felt her breathing deepen and even out. Lexa was asleep but Clarke finished her story anyway, saying it out loud mostly so she could hear it herself and remember a silly day one summer.

It was nice to remember the good times.

When she was sure that Lexa was sound asleep, Clarke shifted to get out of the bed only to feel Lexa’s hand tighten on her shirt, body curling in closer to Clarke’s.

“Stay,” She heard Lexa mumble in her sleep.

And so, Clarke leaned back against the pillows, arms holding Lexa tightly to her chest, trying to remember all of the reasons not fall for the woman in the bed with her.

XX

Mornings had never been her thing, thought Clarke. However, waking up tangled into Lexa Woods was not wholly unpleasant. In fact, if Clarke really thought about it, about the woman curled into her chest, breathing deeply, she just might have to admit that this might be one of the best ways to wake up that she’d ever experienced.

And she wasn’t ready to have those thoughts. So she gently untangled herself as quietly and quickly as possible and tried not to notice the small frown that etched itself onto Lexa’s still sleeping face as she left, or the way the other woman reached for her missing form only to find a pillow for company. No, she didn’t notice those things at all.

Instead, she found herself down in the kitchen, hot cup of tea in her hands, watching the sprinkler system water the early morning lawn. 

“Morning,” Raven mumbled as she made her way to the coffee pot. Clarke couldn’t help but see the other chef rubbing her injured leg while pouring herself a cup.

“Leg still hurting you?”

Raven hummed contendly, taking her first caffeinated sip of the day. She nodded, “Yeah. It’s been bugging me pretty consistently since I fell. I had medical take a look at it, but they just recommended that I keep it elevated or sit out.”

“They would let you do that? Sit out from the competition, I mean.”

“Not quite,” said Raven. “I can sit out a Quickfire as long as it’s not Sudden Death, but I can’t sit out the main shindig. I’d have to forfeit.”

Clarke stirred her tea absently as she considered. “So, why not sit out a Quickfire? Surely the break would do you good.”

Raven shrugged, “Don’t know. It doesn’t feel right for some reason. Not fair, maybe? I just don’t feel comfortable throwing in the towel or taking a break with other people going home. I don’t want to be a burden and I don’t want any handouts.”

“It’s not a handout if the producers say it’s ok.”

Raven chuckled, taking another sip of her coffee. “That’s what Anya said,” she smirked. “Maybe you two should get together and nag each other about my leg.”

“Who’s nagging?” Said Anya, entering the kitchen and heading over to Raven. She leaned in, kissed her softly, swiping the cup of coffee off of the counter.

“Hey,” protested Raven. “Get your own coffee!”

Anya laughed, taking a sip and then wincing. She handed the cup back to Raven, “Good god, I think I’m going to have to. Reyes, that is more tar than coffee. What did you do to it to make it have the consistency of sludge?”

Raven pressed a hand to her chest, “You wound me, ma’am. I’ll have you know that this brew is the NASA special. It’s gotten dozens of men and women to the moon and back. If it’s good enough for them, it’s good enough for you.”

Anya stared into the mug. “I never thought I’d live to see the day when I thought I was better than an astronaut. Alas, that day has arrived.”

Clarke laughed, “Being a little dramatic there, aren’t you?”

“Who’s being dramatic?” Said Lexa, pushing her glasses up her nose.

“Your cousin,” said Clarke. “Apparently the coffee is too strong for her.”

Lexa laughed, pouring herself a cup of tea from the kettle Clarke had put on. “That doesn’t surprise me. Anya likes her coffee on the sweet side. She brews it with a cinnamon stick back at home.”

“Really,” said Raven. “Big, bad Anya Woods likes weak coffee. I never would have guessed.”

Anya rolled her eyes, “Adding a cinnamon stick doesn’t make it weaker. It just makes it taste better.”

“Say whatever you want, babe,” teased Raven. “I’m soooooo onto you now.”

The four women settled into an easy conversation, talking about favorite restaurants and speculating on what the forthcoming Quickfire would be. 

Their laughter was interrupted when Ontari stalked into the kitchen, dark cloud following her. She yanked open the refrigerator, huffing, “God you all are so freaking gay. Makes me want to throw up.”

Anya straightened up and made a move towards the irritable chef, but Raven grabbed her arm.

“Not worth it,” Raven mumbled. “I’ve got this.”

“Hey,” said Raven. “You got something you want to share with the class here, ice queen? I’m pretty sure you just used a slur meant to describe me and my friends. That is– unless you meant we’re gay as in happy or awesome. In which case we all are, but even that’s not quite right is it since Clarke and I are technically bi?”

Ontari closed the fridge door, “Shut the fuck up, Reyes. I’ve just about had it with your mouth.”

Raven put her hands on her hip, “You wish you’d had enough of my mouth, Ontari. Sad thing for you, I don’t go down on second rate chefs. Looks like you’re on your own. I think there’s a cucumber in the crisper if you want to make a friend.”

Ontari growled, taking a menacing step towards the smaller woman. Lexa and Anya moved to intercept the hot headed young chef just as Roan barked, “Ontari! That’s enough!”

She gestured wildly at Raven, “Roan! But she–“

Roan crosses his arms, scowling. “I saw the entire thing. Raven didn’t do anything but defend herself and her friends. We’ve talked about this before. Don’t make me regret bringing you here.”

Ontari straightened, “Roan, I–“

He held up a hand. “That’s enough. I’m not interested in your excuses. Leave the kitchen before you embarrass us both again.”

Ontari stalked out of the kitchen as quickly as she had stormed in. Clarke felt bad for anyone who got in her way today.

Roan turned to the group, “Ladies, I’m sorry for her behavior. Azgeda– we’re not as” he paused, searching for the right words. “We’ve never been as open or as accepting as our friends in Polis. Please forgive us.”

Lexa laid her hand on Roan’s arm, “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, my friend. Ontari– well, she’s another story. Her temper is going to get her in trouble one day.”

Roan sighed, looking towards the now empty corridor, “I know. Still,” he shrugged. “We’re the only family she has. I won’t leave her behind.”

Raven nodded, “I get it, dude. I do. But I’m going to apologize in advance.”

“For what?” 

Raven smirked, “I’m pretty sure that I’m going to punch her in the face before this is all over. I’m apologizing for it now.”

Roan threw his head back, laughing. “Raven Reyes, if you decide to actually punch her, I promise to forgive you. And, if I might make a suggestion?”

“You may.”

“If you actually do it, get it on video. I know people who would pay good money to see Ontari get decked once.”

Raven grinned. “Deal.”

XX

“Good afternoon, chefs” said Padma.

“Good afternoon,” everyone replied in unison.

“Welcome to your sixth Quickfire challenge. To celebrate being almost halfway done with the competition, I thought we’d kick up the heat. Literally.”

“Chefs,” we’re joined today by a world-renown chef, restaurant tycoon, and media sensation, Emeril Lagasse.”

Clarke watched Emeril enter the kitchen. Every chef in the room knew him. To know television chefs was to be familiar with Emeril. The Louisiana chef was known for his creole food, spicy flavors and his signature catchphrase.

As if on queue, Emeril said, “chefs, today we’re going to kick it up a notch. This Quickfire isn’t really like what you’ve done before.”

Padma laughed, “It certainly isn’t. Chefs, today you are going to be utilizing things in direct opposition with one another. You’ll be using fire and ice.”

“That’s right,” continued Emeril. “In this challenge you’ll need to make one dish utilizing both a cold cooking technique and a fire-based technique. I expect you all to get creative and to really punch me in the face with flavors.”

“Chefs,” said Padma. “You have thirty minutes. Your time starts now!”

The majority of the chefs bolted towards the pantry, so Clarke took off towards the dry goods. She had an idea for a quick seared pepper steak with a flash frozen candied citrus rind. It wasn’t something she’d done before, but it sounded like something she’d eat.

She collected her ingredients as quickly as possible and then returned to her station. Rave was right next to her grinning like a wild woman and making an enormous mountain out of what looked like instant mashed potatoes.

“Ummmm. Raven?”

“Yeah, Griffin?”

“What exactly are you making?”

“What does it look like I’m making,” she pointed towards the mound of goop.

“It uh– It looks like a mountain of instant mashed potatoes.”

Raven wiggled her eyebrows and crowed with laughter. “That’s exactly what it is! It’s going to be a masterpiece,” she said, shoving a hand into the top of the dome and scooping potato out.

Clarke shrugged. Raven had obviously gone insane. 

XX

When the chefs ran out of time, Emeril and Padma started circulating the room. Clarke and Raven were near the end of the group. Ontari was on the other side of Raven and would be judged last. Clarke was really just glad that Raven and the other woman had taken to ignoring each other for this challenge instead of sniping at each other left and right.

Eventually, Padma and Emeril made it to Clarke. They asked a few questions about the dish, nodding their heads in approval and then moved on. Clarke was pretty sure her dish wasn’t going to win this Quickfire. Her meat overrested just a bit which made the steak slightly above medium and a tad chewy. Still, she was happy with the flavors.

She looked over at Raven, who was still grinning like a lunatic and gesturing animatedly towards her rather large mountain of mashed potatoes. Clarke watched her take a vial out from under the table and then pour it into her mountain.

Clarke took a few steps back. She had a feeling she knew what was going to happen next. 

The kitchen was filled with a hissing, bubbling noise and then, much to Clarke’s horror and Raven’s delight, a giant spray of foamy potatoes exploded across the kitchen.

Clarke slammed her eyes shut and felt a few stray pieces of potato smack her on the face and then slide off onto the floor.

She opened her eyes to see Raven clapping in delight, covered in a starchy mess. “It worked!” She yelled triumphantly.

Padma wiped a few offending blobs of potato off of her arm. “Yes, I’d say it did, Ms. Reyes. Emeril?”

Emeril shrugged, “Well, I guess it serves me right for asking you all to kick it up a notch. And while I admire your imagination, I don’t think I’m going to be eating any of this.”

Raven laughed, “Of course not, Chef. Padma– sorry about your dress.”

Padma laughed and waved her off. “Don’t worry about it. I never liked this dress anyway. Too tight in the middle.”

Emeril and Padma moves over to the last table where Ontari stood. The young chef was staring at Raven, mouth open in shock. A piece of potato clung to her hair and Clarke noticed that her dish hadn’t escaped the potatopocalypse unscathed.

“Ontari, what do you have for us today?” Asked Padma.

“I. Ugh. I–“

Emeril leaned in towards Padma. “Does this one speak?”

Padma shrugged. 

Ontari coughed, snapping herself out of her daze. “Yes chef, she speaks. I mean, I speak. I speak all the time. I mean–“

Emeril looked around, “Can someone get Ontari a glass of water? I think her brain has overheated.”

Ontari blushed. “Sorry chef. What I have for you today is,” Ontari looked down at her plate, now delicately dressed in frothy potatoes. She coughed. “Um, what I had before Raven decided to reenact the fall of Pompeii–“

“You loved it and you know it!” Yelled Raven.

Emeril laughed, “Please, Ms. Reyes. Let Ontari finish.”

“Like I was saying, I had a Chilean sea bass with an iced caviar served over flame roasted peppers.”

“Sounds good.”

Ontari pouted, “It was.”

Padma eyed the dish skeptically, “You know we aren’t going to eat that, right?” She gestured towards the potato covered plate. 

“I wouldn’t,” laughed Raven. “Not unless you want to be super sick later.”

“Jesus, Reyes. Shut up!” Said Ontari. “I swear to God, I’m going to–“

“Well,” Padma interrupted. “I think Emeril and I have a lot to discuss before we chose a winner for this Quickfire. We had better get started.”

 

XX

In the end, Roan won immunity for a torched boar and iced apple dish that surprised Clarke. Where had Roan found wild boar meat? 

Raven and Ontari ended up on the bottom much to Raven’s delight and Ontari’s frustration. The judges decided that Raven had technically completed the challenge and that Ontari’s dish couldn’t be eaten at all which left her out of the running for immunity.

Ontari did not seem pleased with the results and had spent several minutes arguing heatedly with the producers who only shrugged. A potato explosion made for good television as far as they were concerned, and Ontari wasn’t going to be eliminated. They were ready to just move on.

Based on Ontari’s current body language, Clarke didn’t think the young chef would be forgetting this incident anytime soon. And if Ontari has been a tad nicer, Clarke might have mentioned the splatter of potato still wedged to her butt. Being a little petty though, Clarke thought, was fine in this case. 

“Now that we are done with, what I’m going to say was officially our most unexpectedly exciting Quickfire.”

Raven whooped.

“We’ll tell you about your elimination challenge.”

“Chefs,” said Emeril. “Part of being a master in the kitchen is knowing what works well together and what doesn’t. Oil and water, salt and pepper, and all that jazz.”

“So for this challenge, we’re going to pair you up. Before the Quickfire we had you each draw a knife and gave you a piece of colored rope. Congratulations, the person with the matching piece of rope is your partner for this challenge. Please find them now.”

Clarke looked down at the green rope in her hand and then out at the other contestants. As fate would have it, Lexa held the matching piece. Clarke rolled her eyes. No rest for the wicked, she thought. Avoiding Lexa and her growing feelings for the other chef was going to be so much harder if they had to work together.

Clarke moved over to Lexa’s workstation. “Looks like you’re stuck with me,” said Clarke.

Lexa blushed. “Looks like it. I feel bad for Raven though.”

“Why?”

Lexa nodded her head towards a workstation where Raven and Ontari were both holding matching sets of purple rope.

“I could have called that from a mile away,” chuckled Clarke.

Lexa squinted, “Do you think they can trade?”

“Doubt it.”

“Chefs,” said Padma. “Now that you’ve found your partner, we’ve got another twist to add. For the remainder of this challenge you and your partner will be working very closely together.”

“How close, Padma?” said Emeril.

Padma smiled wickedly, “Very close. I hope you all don’t mind a little bonding through bondage of the non-sexual variety, because you’re going to be tied together with your rope at the waist. From now until the end of the competition, you and your partner must be tied together unless you are driving or at the Top Chef House.”

“And now for the food!” Said Emeril. “Since we’ve got sort of a theme going with pairs, Padma and I thought pairing would be a good choice. You and your partner will be working together to make two dishes that are at odds with each other but that pair well with the same wine.”

“You’ll have an hour to shop today, two hours to prep here in the kitchen, and an additional two hours to cook tomorrow. Emeril will be joining us again as our guest judge, so make sure to bring the heat.”

“Just maybe leave the fireworks at home this time, Reyes.”

“Yes, sir!” Saluted Raven.

“Chefs, your planning time starts now! Good luck and I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”


	18. Episode 6: Stuck With You (The Challenge)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Stuck With You Challenge commences. Lexa shares a big piece of herself with Clarke. Things at the Challenge take a turn for the worst. Will one of our leading ladies end up going home? Find out now on “This Love Cuts Like a Knife.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa!!! This chapter is over 9,000 words! My apologies for getting it out later than I expected. Hopefully it delivers. Character development? Check. Plot movement? Check? Romance? Check. Check. Drama? Ooooh the drama!!!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this! Next post up soon!

Lexa was being weird and Clarke didn’t know why. That bugged her. When the production assistants came over to tie them together at the waist she was sure Lexa would say something flirtatious, something lighthearted that would get Clarke’s pulse racing.

But she hadn’t. Instead she was withdrawn. She’d barely said two words since their team up and seemed fine with just letting Clarke make all of the decisions about their dishes. Clarke didn’t like it.

First, she didn’t want to be responsible for creating two dishes and trying to figure out a wine that paired with both. And the second thing, the part Clarke finally came to terms with, somewhere between Lexa’s third and tenth non-committal shrug, was that she had really been looking forward to working with Lexa.

She knew they had chemistry outside of the kitchen, but Clarke didn’t just enjoy the other woman for her soft smiles and love of literature. She wanted to pick her brain, bat ideas back and forth about dishes, share a new technique, just– something! Not this though. The quiet was killing her, and being tied together only made things worse.

Clarke could feel the heat from Lexa’s skin, smell her faintly citrusy shampoo, she could clearly see how checked out Lexa was from the blank stare in her eyes.

Clarke picked up a merlot off of the wine sampling table the production team had setup for them. She swirled the wine around in the glass, appreciating its rich red tones. She’d already tried this wine but kept coming back to its dry flavor with hints of some sort of earthiness she couldn’t quite identify. She wasn’t sure about building dishes around the merlot yet, but the layer of flavors certainly made it fun to drink.

Clarke took another swig of wine and looked over at her partner. Lexa had eight wine glasses in front of her and it didn’t look like she’d touched a single one. Clarke gritted her teeth. Lexa wasn’t even trying to participate in the challenge as far as she could see.

“What is going on with you?” She blurted out.

Lexa looked around, “with me?”

Clarke huffed, hands on her hips. “Yes, with you. You’re not trying the wine, you’re not thinking about our dishes, and you aren’t even really listening to my ideas. I can’t do this on my own.”

Lexa just sighed and turned back to her row of perfectly poured wine glasses. “Maybe you should – Do it on your own, I mean. I’m not going to be much help in this challenge,” she said, idly running a long finger around the rim of a wine glass.

“Why?”

Lexa shrugged.

“Don’t shrug at me, Lexa. We’re in this together. I’m sorry you’re stuck with me for this, but you’re just going to have to deal.”

Lexa blinked, “You think I don’t want to cook with you?”

Clarke held her hands up helplessly, “It’s the only thing that makes sense to me right now. You’ve been battling it out with me from day one of this competition, pushing me, making me rise up. And now? Now we are finally going to work together and you just shut down? I don’t get it.”

Lexa stared at her very seriously, and reached out to take Clarke’s hand. “It’s not you, Clarke. I promise. It’s me.”

Clarke squeezed her hand. “Then tell me what’s going on. How can I help? What do you need, Commander?” She teased.

Lexa chuckled and let out a heavy sigh, “That’s just it I guess. I don’t feel much like the commander today.” She shrugged. “I just– I just feel like me today. Like Lexa.”

Clarke searched her eyes for some sort of hidden meaning behind her words, but couldn’t find any, so she just asked. “Why is feeling like Lexa a bad thing? I like Lexa.”

Lexa fidgeted nervously next to her, “I just– I don’t think I know how to be Lexa in the kitchen anymore” she said quietly. “I’m the commander. She’s strong and sure. She knows how to lead. Lexa is,” She shuddered out a breath, collecting herself. “Lexa is – I’m not that. Not all the time. Not today.”

Clarke found herself stroking the back of Lexa’s hand to help soothe the rattled chef. She didn’t know what had set Lexa off, but she was clearly struggling. Maybe she just needed time. “Ok.” Clarke nodded. “I get what it’s like to feel like you’re two different people. Really, I do. But Lexa– please look at me.”

Lexa’s eyes slowly drifted up. 

Clarke brought up their joined hands. “We’re in this together now. I– I need you. And not the commander. I need you. I need Lexa. I need you to help me get us both through this, ok? You don’t have to be 100%. Hell, you don’t even need to be 75%. Just– just be there for me. For us. Please? Can you do that?”

Lexa nodded. “I can try.”

Clarke reached out to put a hand on Lexa’s arm. “That’s all I’m asking.”

XX

In the end, Clarke did settle on the merlot. Lexa never even touched any of her wine, but agreed to create the first dish served with the pairing. She had offered up a braised short rib dish that sounded good even if it was offered up half heartedly. Clarke thought it was very easily a dish Lexa would have come up with in Commander mode, but didn’t tell that to the other woman. Especially not when Lexa had quietly shuffled off to their room when they’d gotten back to the Top Chef House.

Clarke had settled on doing a dessert. It was a huge risk, but she felt like she needed to take it if they were going to make it through this round of the competition unscathed. Historically, desserts had been the downfall of a lot of talented competitors on Top Chef. Pie crusts could turn out soggy, cakes came out flat, custards didn’t set, it was a gamble. A big one. But if it paid off, Clarke knew it would set her apart in the competition and show off a set of skills few of the other chefs had.

Once Clarke had settled into the breakfast nook at the Top Chef House, Clark did what she always did when she needed to visualize a dish. She drew it. A sweet pear pie with a gruyere topped crust. She drew out the golden dessert, played with plating ideas, and tried to wrap her head around the idea of making a perfect piece of pie from start to finish in just over ninety minutes. It was going to be tight.

She’d been sketching in her notebook and making small adjustments to her recipe for about an hour when Anya quietly sat down in front of her. Clarke finished a quick note and settled back in her chair.

Anya tapped her fingers nervously on the table which Clarke found odd. It wasn’t like Anya to be nervous. Irritated? Sure. Angry? Maybe. Endlessly amused by Raven’s antics? Always. But not nervous, and certainly not fidgety. 

Clarke arched a brow, “What’s up?”

The steady drumming of Anya’s fingers stopped and she put her hand in her lap, clutching them tightly. “I have a question for you and I’m not sure that you can answer it, or if I should really be asking you this.”

Clarke tilted her head, “Ok. What’s the question?”

Anya took a breath, “How did you and Lexa choose your wine?”

“The merlot? I don’t know. It was the one I liked the best, I suppose. Lexa’s been a little out of it today.”

Anya placed her hands on the table, leaning towards Clarke. “Out of it how?” She asked.

“I don’t really know,” said Clarke. “Withdrawn is, I guess, the best word. She was fine this morning when we left for the Quickfire, but I guess getting a limited amount of sleep caught up to her this afternoon.”

“She didn’t sleep well?”

Clarke nodded, “Yeah. She was a little restless last night after having a nightmare, but like I said, she seemed fine this morning while we were getting ready.”

“If Lexa had a nightmare, why didn’t she come wake me up? I could have helped.”

“I don’t really know,” said Clarke. “I offered to go and get you but she didn’t want to be a bother.” Clarke leaned over, placing her hand lightly on top of Anya’s. “Anya, is there something going on that I need to know about? Lexa was calling out for Costia last night and saying she was sorry. Do you think that’s what’s going on with her?”

Anya leaned back and sighed, running her hands through already messy hair. “Yes and no. How much do you know about Costia?”

Clarke shook her head, “Not much. Basically just some stuff I’ve heard around the house. What’s going on Anya? Do I need to be worried about her?”

Anya leaned her head into her hands, “I don’t know, Clarke. Honestly. She hasn’t talked to me yet. Just– Just keep an eye out for her?”

Clarke nodded, “Of course, Anya. But what exactly am I keeping my eye out for?”

Anya pinched her nose, squeezing her eyes shut. “I really, really shouldn’t say anything or Lexa will kill me. Just– I need you to know as her partner and as someone that Lexa,” Anya paused, took a breath, and opened her eyes to look into Clarke’s as if pleading with her to just simply understand. Anya started again, “You know that Lexa likes you, right?”

Clarke nodded, “I like her too.”

Anya shook her head. “No, Clarke. I mean, I’m glad that you like her, but Lexa cares for you. More than maybe she should given the setting, but it’s there. I haven’t seen her this smitten since– well, never maybe. What I mean to say is that you are important to her. I guess I’m hoping that I’ve read the signals right and that you have some emerging feeling for her too.”

Clarke blushed. “I’ve honestly been trying to ignore them,” she mumbled.

Anya laughed, “I tried to do that with Raven too. It worked a little too well at one point.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Anya shrugged, “Still, things have a way of working themselves out. But Lexa is different Clarke. She’s not like me, or Raven, or even you. She carries the weight of our people on her shoulders and makes it look effortless, but she’s also one of the most fragile people I know. She– she doesn’t have anyone to look out for her. To help her. Well, except for me and Lincoln.”

Clarke reached across the space between them, grasping Anya’s forearm. “I’ll look out for her, Anya.”

“You will?”

Clarke nodded. “I’ll do my best to make sure she gets through this round. She’s basically had me making all of the decisions anyway. She didn’t even touch the wine, which is how we ended up with the merlot.”

Anya smiled. “She didn’t help test the wine.”

Clarke shook her head, smiling. “Nope. Not a damn drop. She’s lucky she has me to pull her ass through this.”

Anya nodded, and stood. “She really is, prisa.”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “I told Lexa to stop calling me that.”

Anya laughed, “She told me as well. Still, I don’t do everything the Heda says. Where’s the fun in that?”

XX

Clarke finished up her sketches and decided to make herself a sandwich. She had come to loathe cooking something extravagant before the competitions, so she settled on a simple PB&J and some chips. Halfway through smearing prickly pear jelly on toasted bread, she decided to make an extra sandwich for Lexa and take it up to her. 

She took both plates and a couple of sodas up to their room and knocked on the door, “Lexa? Is it ok to come in?”

Clarke heard a muffled reply through the door but couldn’t tell if it was meant to invite her in or keep her out. Clarke decided to just risk it, juggling the plates in her hand while she turned the knob. She half stumbled into the room, trying not to wince as a few stray chips fell to the floor.

Lexa was propped up against the wall on her bed, blanket thrown across her legs, eyes closed. She looked exhausted. 

“Hey,” said Clarke, softly. “I brought you a sandwich.”

Lexa opened her eyes, red from crying, and Clarke’s heart wrenched. What was going on with her?

Lexa looked at the plate that Clarke offered to her and let out a dejected sigh. “You really didn’t need to go through the trouble, Clarke. Thank you though. I’m just not hungry.”

Clarke kicked off her shoes and climbed into the bed across from Lexa. She put the two plates in between them and tapped Lexa on the leg to get her attention. “At least eat a little something. Don’t make me call Anya and Lincoln in here to force feed you.”

Lexa let out a small chuckle and Clarke grinned, laying a hand on Lexa’s knee. “Anya’s worries you know. She asked me to keep an eye out for you.”

Lexa looked away. “While I appreciate my cousin’s concern, it’s not necessary. I don’t need anyone looking out for me.”

“What if I want to keep an eye out for you?” She asked quietly.

Lexa turned her head, studying Clarke. “Why would you want to do that?”

Clarke shrugged, “Why would I not want to?”

Her words hung in the air between them and Clarke swore she could feel something shift in their dynamic. The space separating them, though perfectly decent, felt smaller. She could feel the heat from Lexa’s body rising up through the thin blanket and into the palm of her hand. She felt the urge to move the blanket aside and run her fingers over the tan, smooth skin she knew she’d find underneath it. She wanted to know how Lexa would feel about that. Hell, she wanted to know how she would feel about that.

Lexa sighed, “I guess I’ll try the sandwich if it will keep everyone from worrying.”

Clarke grinned, handing her the plate. Lexa took a bite into the sandwich and let out a hum that Clarke could only think to describe as delicious. Lexa’s eyes lit up.

“What is in this sandwich? It tastes like heaven.”

“Probably because you’re starving,” teased Clarke, biting into her own PB&J. “I found some prickly pear jelly in the pantry and thought it would go well with the peanut butter.”

Lexa nodded. “It really does. You know, we didn’t have peanut butter in Polis.”

“Really?” Said Clarke.

“Really, really. When we first got to America, I felt like everything had peanut butter in it. I hated it. The way it sticks to the back of your mouth, how sweet it is, having to choose between crunchy and smooth.”

“Crunchy, obviously,” Clarke grinned.

“Obviously.”

“So what made you a peanut butter convert?” Clarke said, popping a chip into her mouth.

Lexa’s eyes clouded over a little. “Costia,” She said quietly. 

Clarke reached across their crossed legs to take Lexa’s hand in her own. “You don’t have to talk about her if you don’t want to.”

Lexa swallowed thickly, shaking her head. “No. I want to.”

She took a deep breath. “You know, Costia was from Polis too.”

“I didn’t know that.”

Lexa smiled sadly, “She was my best friend. When the capital fell and Anya, Lincoln, and I ran, I thought we had lost her forever. We were sitting in an airport in New Jersey, smelling of smoke, dehydrated from crying, stomachs completely empty, and I heard someone scream my name. I looked up and there she was, all legs and arms. She was bruised and had small cuts all over her body, but she was there. I remember running to her in the airport and slamming my body against hers. And I vowed never to let her go again.”

“And then you fell in love,” said Clarke.

Lexa smiled, “Yes. And also no.”

Clarke’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“The bond I had with Costia was special. We were best friends. She was the closest thing I had to family other than Lincoln and Anya. She was so happy, Clarke. She loved America so much. She felt like we had been given an opportunity to thrive here and that we should grab it with both hands. Did you know that she convinced us to open Grounders?”

Clarke shook her head.

Lexa laughed. “She basically bullied us all the way to the bank for our loan. She said we had to share ourselves with the world or the world would forget us and our people. It was our responsibility to live full lives and be remembered when other people could not be.”

“She sounds smart.”

“She was. And she was mine. She loved me so much. In her eyes I could do no wrong. I was Heda and she was my partner in life.”

“It sounds like she really cared about you.”

Lexa nodded. “She did. She definitely did, but as we grew older, I wondered how much of her love was for Lexa and how much of it was for the leader of our people? Would she have loved just me if I had said I wanted to just abandon our past and start over somewhere?”

“Did you ever ask her?”

Lexa shook her head, “No. I never did. I think it’s because I already knew the answer. To Costia I was always Heda first, the Commander. Lexa came second. And Costia was proud to be the wife of the Heda. She wanted to be the keeper of our heritage, and I didn’t want to ruin our happiness.”

“Why? Why not take the risk?”

Lexa smiled softly, “Because I had never been loved like that before. Costia’s love for me pushed me further than I ever dreamed. She crafted me and my cousins into the people we are. She was our core of strength. It was intoxicating.”

“And you enjoyed it.”

Lexa nodded. “I did, and I think I took advantage of it, of her. I loved Costia a great deal, more than I’ve ever loved anyone, but not the same way she loved me. I was never consumed by our love or wrapped up in it emotionally. For me, our relationship made sense. It was logical and neat. We suited each other.”

Clarke wrinkled her nose. “That sounds terrible.”

“It wasn’t. It was good. It was really good until things started to go downhill.”

“What happened?”

“She got sick. I didn’t even notice at first. I was caught up in the restaurant. We didn’t have a name for it back then. We were just trying to figure out how to get the place open without going bankrupt. I didn’t notice that she’d lost weight, or that she had deep circles under her eyes, or that she was tired all the time. I was completely absorbed in the restaurant and myself.”

Lexa paused, turning her hand over in Clarke’s, lacing their fingers together. “I can be a very selfish person, Clarke.”

Clarke nodded, “I think that’s normal, Lexa. We’re all selfish at times. I know I am.”

“One day, we were unloading things in the kitchen,” Lexa continued. “I don’t remember exactly what we were unpacking. Maybe glasses or something. Who knows. We were unpacking and then I looked over. Costia’s face had gone completely white and she was hunched over in pain. She said she couldn’t breathe.”

Lexa sighed, “I remember flying down the road in our car, trying to get to the hospital, squeezing her hand so tightly in mine I was afraid I might accidentally break something. But I couldn’t make myself let go. I just couldn’t.”

A tear tumbled down Lexa’s cheek and then another. “When we got to the hospital,” Lexa choked out. “When we finally got there, the ER docs wheeled her off right away. It was hours before I got to see her, and when I did she looked so small.”

Lexa wiped away a few stray tears with her free hand. “The doctors told me that she had bone cancer and that it was aggressive. Pressure from her spine had caused the lower part of her back to shatter. I don’t remember much after that. I just remember thinking that Costia was too young to die. That she was too young and that my selfishness had killed her.”

Clarke squeezed her hand, “Come on, Lexa. You know that’s not true. Being selfish doesn’t cause bone cancer.”

Lexa laced their fingers together and looked up. “I know it doesn’t. Really– I do. But I can’t help but think that if I had paid more attention to her, if I had been just a little less involved in the restaurant and more involved in our marriage, maybe we would have caught it sooner.”

“There’s really no way to know that though is there?”

“I guess not,” said Lexa, quietly. “But I think about it sometimes. Especially on days like today.”

“That’s what I don’t get,” said Clarke. “You were fine this morning. I mean, you were fine as far as I could tell. You seemed ok until they decided to tie the two of us together. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable with this, Lexa.”

Lexa’s eyes widened in shock, she slowly raised her hand and cupped Clarke’s cheek, delicately running her finger over Clarke’s cheekbone. “You, Clarke Griffin, are the only thing making this challenge bearable. Please don’t ever think differently.”

Clarke looked at the woman sitting across from her, really looked. This was Lexa with no barriers, honest and open, and Clarke only had one question burning through her mind. “Lexa,” she whispered so quietly she barely heard it herself.

“Yes, Clarke?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Lexa smiled, the first real smile Clarke had seen all evening. Her eyes sparkled when she asked, “what about your rules? What about the competition?”

Clarke shook her head. “I’m not worried about that right now, and I’ll deal with it tomorrow. Right now I just want to kiss you, this you. I feel like if I don’t, I’ll regret it. If I don’t ask right now, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life, because I know I’m my gut that this is right.”

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t want you to regret anything,” Lexa teased lightly.

Clarke rolled her eyes, “Lexa, I swear to God-“

“Clarke,” Lexa interrupted. “Shut up and kiss me.” 

Clarke’s breath hitched. She crawled across Lexa’s outstretched body and straddled her legs. “This ok?” She asked.

Lexa nodded rapidly.

Clarke leaned in, bringing her hands to Lexa’s face, burying them in the soft hairs at the nape of her neck. She tried not to feel too smug when Lexa let out just the barest hint of a whimper, tilting her head up to give Clarke more access. “Please,” She heard Lexa whisper.

It was the please that broke her. Clarke started the kiss lightly, enjoying the fullness of Lexa’s lips, the way her breath hitched at the contact, the way Lexa’s hands dug into her thighs, bringing her closer. 

At some point, Clarke found herself sprawled across the other woman, legs tangled together with a hand half up Lexa’s shirt. Their bodies pressed together tightly. Lexa ran her hand up under Clarke’s shirt and Clarke let out a deep moan.

Lexa paused mid-kiss and Clarke leaned back in, searching for her lips once again. She’d had a taste of Lexa and it was like she couldn’t get enough. She was ready to take as much as she could, or as much as Lexa would give her. Lexa sighed into the kiss and Clarke felt her own heart flutter at the sound.

“That’s probably enough for tonight,” said Lexa.

Clarke groaned, burying her head in the crook of Lexa’s neck, placing feather light kisses across Lexa’s collarbone and loving the way Lexa arched into her touch. “Just a little more,” she mumbled.

Lexa laughed, “Seriously though. We need to stop. I’ve got something I need to say before we take this any further than first base.”

Clarke quirked an eyebrow, “That was at least second base.”

Lexa looked down and then back up again, “As far as I can tell we are both still fully dressed. You didn’t even manage to cop a feel, Griffin. Hate to break it to you, but that’s just first base stuff.”

“Ugh.” She groaned, rolling off of Lexa and into the empty space next to her on the bed. She reached out to take Lexa’s hand, giving it a quick kiss. “So what do you need to tell me.”

Suddenly, the shy, walled off Lexa from earlier in the day was back. Clarke could see the other woman shrinking in on herself. “Hey,” She said. “Don’t do that. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

Lexa looked at their joined hands and back up at Clarke. “I– I want to tell you something pretty important, but I’m afraid that if I do, it will ruin tonight.”

Clarke considered. “Well,” She said. “Maybe whatever you are going to say will ruin the evening. We won’t know until you tell me.”

“Well that’s reassuring,” mocked Lexa.

Clarke grinned, “You’re the one who’s going to potentially ruin the mood. Might as well get on with it.”

Lexa leaned in, placing a delicate kiss on Clarke’s lips. Clarke hummed contentedly. “Tell me,” she whispered. 

Lexa nodded, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear and fidgeting with her glasses. “Ok. So, the challenge.”

“Yes?”

“You wanted to know why I’ve been upset.”

Clarke nodded.

“It’s because of the challenge.”

“Yeah. I got that, Lexa. The ropes weird you out or something along those lines.”

Lexa shook her head. “It’s not the ropes.”

“What then?”

“You know the nightmare I had last night?”

Clarke nodded.

“It was about Costia.”

“I know,” said Clarke. “I heard you calling out for her.”

Lexa shook her head, “Not calling out, Clarke. Apologizing. My dreams are always the same. It’s always about how I’ve failed her memory. After she died, I sort of self-destructed.”

“That seems perfectly appropriate,” said Clarke. “I packed up everything I owned and travelled for a year without calling home when my dad died. When I finally made it back, I wasn't sure if my mom was going to hug me or murder me for leaving with no explanation.”

“I wish that’s what I’d done,” said Lexa. “Instead of travelling or working my way through the grief and the guilt, I tried to comfort myself by dulling my feelings with alcohol.” Lexa let out a mocking laugh. “I actually got pretty good at it. I’d been drinking pretty steadily for about six months when Anya confronted me. She told me that she was afraid I was developing a problem and that I needed to talk to someone.”

“And what did you say?”

“I didn’t say anything. I punched her. Right in the face. I hit my own cousin, Clarke. I’ve never done anything like that before. And still, I didn’t stop drinking. It’s a miracle we ever got the restaurant open with the way I was acting.”

“But you did manage to open the restaurant.”

Lexa nodded. “We did and I knew it was a success right from the beginning, but it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered to me was having another drink. Just a small one, whatever I could get my hands on. Bourbon was my preferred drink, but I’d spend most of the day taking sips of wine at the restaurant to keep the buzz going.”

Lexa paused, looking at Clarke, “I’m an alcoholic, Clarke. That’s why the challenge upset me.”

“And probably why Anya asked me how we chose our wine.”

Lexa smiled, “She asked? God, poor Anya. I probably need to go talk to her and tell her I didn’t have any.”

“I actually already told her.”

“Really? When?”

“Back in the kitchen. I was actually bitching about how you weren’t helping me and how you didn’t even try any of the wine. So, she definitely knows.”

Lexa let out a breath, “Good. I’m glad. I think my problem has caused her more pain that I would like.”

“How?”

“I know that Raven told you about how she and Anya almost got together years ago.”

Clarke nodded.

“The reason Anya stayed away when they first got going was because I was in an accident. It took her away from Raven and caused issues that they’ve only just worked out now. They lost so much time together because of me and my selfishness. It was the accident that finally made me see how bad my drinking had gotten. It’s not an all-in thing, you know? It starts as just one drink, then two, and suddenly- suddenly it’s any excuse to have a drink at any time of day. That gradual decline makes it feel normal. Like, drinking that much alcohol every day is normal.”

“So you don’t drink anymore,” said Clarke.

“I can’t drink anymore, Clarke. There’s a difference. Not at all. No one ever says they were an alcoholic. You either are one are you aren’t. The wine today- It unsettled me. It pulled me in. I wanted a drink so badly I could taste it already. I haven’t had that reaction in a long time. It made me feel unsure- unsafe I guess,” Lexa shrugged. 

“Jesus, Lexa” said Clarke, reaching out to place a soothing hand on the other woman’s hip. “Did you talk to the producers about this? Is there a way that you could sit out this challenge?”

Lexa shook her head, “I knew that something like this was a possibility when we decided to enter the competition, but I didn’t think I would react so strongly. Lincoln handles all of our wine pairing at the restaurant. I’m in a safe space there even though alcohol is always around. The Top Chef producers are sympathetic, but I do have to either compete or forfeit.”

“Well, that’s not fair.” Clarke pouted. 

Lexa laughed and leaned in for a quick kiss. “You are taking this much better than I thought you would.”

“What? That you are like everyone else and have problems? God, it’s actually a little bit of a relief that you aren’t perfect. It makes me feel better about the mess that is my life.”

“I’m glad my crippling addiction makes you feel better,” Lexa joked.

Clarke swatted her with a pillow. “You know that’s not what I meant,” she laughed. Lexa grinned back at her and Clarke felt that little flutter in her heart again. She tucked a stray piece of hair behind Lexa’s ear. “You seem better.”

Lexa snuggled in closer, propping her head just under Clarke’s chin, “I feel better.” 

Clarke wrapped herself around the other woman, enjoying the way their legs wound together, listening to the steady rise and fall of Lexa’s chest, living just in this moment. It wasn’t perfect, but she thought it just might be close enough.

XX

Clarke was beginning to hate rope. She and Lexa were running around the kitchen trying to prepare their dishes, and everytime they moved even a little the wrong direction the rope pulled and chaffed. She was sure to have some ugly red lines across her torso at the end of the challenge. 

There were only two things making her feel better at the moment. The first was that everyone else seemed to be struggling as well. Octavia and Lincoln kept having issues with their height difference, Roan and Anya seemed very uncomfortable with being in such close contact with each other, and Raven and Ontari couldn’t stop yelling at each other. The only group that seemed totally at peace was Emori and Murphy. The married couple had gone a step further with the challenge and each had an arm slung around each other. They each used one hand to chop, clean, and cook. They made it look easy and genuinely seemed to be enjoying the challenge and each other. 

The other thing making Clarke happy was the woman currently swearing at a pie crust. She and Lexa had drifted off to sleep together the night before and Clarke had woken up feeling more refreshed than she had in days. Lexa was adorably shy in the morning, trying to figure out what the night before meant for their relationship outside of the kitchen. Clarke had quieted her worries with a kiss and told Lexa that they would talk after the challenge. Now they just had to make it through. 

Lexa had managed to pull it together today in a way that made Clarke burst with happiness. The Commander still wasn’t present. Gone was the sureness and the cockiness that seemed so much like a part of Lexa when Clarke first met her. But this Lexa was equally as charming. She was flustered but determined. She asked Clarke questions about the wine she herself couldn’t try, trying to coax matching flavors out of both of their dishes. 

Lexa’s braised short ribs had come out fabulously. They were topped with a deep red cherry compote that complemented the heartiness of the meat and the floral notes of the wine. Clarke knew it had been a hit with the judges. There was just no way that they had messed it up. 

Clarke’s pie- That was another story. The pie itself was going to taste good, it was sweet where Lexa’s dish was tart, it was light where her’s was heavy. The flavors were going to help them win this challenge. That is- if the damned crust would just brown already. 

“Son of a bitch, son of a bitch, son of a bitch.” Lexa mumbled under her breath while staring intently at the pie in the oven. The barely golden brown crust just sat there, mocking them quietly. Pies aren’t great conversationalists that way.

“Lexa,” said Clarke. “I need you to calm down or I’m going to start freaking out. Come help me with the reduction,” she held her hand out.

Lexa took one last look at the pie, and the took her hand, allowing herself to be dragged over to the stovetop. 

Clarke knew as well as Lexa did that the pie was either going to turn out or it wasn’t. There just wasn’t anything they could do about it at the moment except wait it out. Clarke thought it probably needed at least another ten minutes to finish baking. She looked at the clock only to see it flash seven minutes at her. “Damn,” she murmured. 

“What did you say?”  
Clarke shook her head, “Nothing.” There wasn’t any reason to worry Lexa at this point. They had other things to work on together. “Here, tell me what you think of the sauce.” She held a tasting spoon of her wine reduction up to Lexa’s lips.

Lexa took a small taste and then grimaced, “Oh my God, Clarke. We can’t serve that! What the hell even is that?”

Clarke wrinkled her brow, “What? Is it not good?” She tried a spoonful for herself and nearly gagged. “What the actual fuck? Holy crap! That’s bad.” Her tongue felt like it was covered in slime and salt. Her reduction was supposed to be thick and sweet. Something had gone terribly wrong. 

Thankfully there was still time to fix it. A reduction took less than a minute if done properly. Clarke quickly poured a cup of merlot into a clean saucepan and then added a pinch of sugar to the dish. 

“Did you add sugar?” asked Lexa, who had been busy drinking water from the prep sink next to them. 

Clarke nodded. “Yeah. I think it’s almost done reducing. I’m just glad we both tasted it before plating. I don’t know what went wrong with that first batch.”

Lexa grabbed a new tasting spoon, dipped it into the new sauce and brought it to her mouth. “Here goes nothing,” she said. She grimaced again. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” said Clarke. “How can it be bad? It’s literally sugar and wine! There’s nothing there to mess up.”

Lexa shook her head, “I don’t know, Clarke. All I can taste is salt.”

Clarke’s stomach dropped and she slowly turned to the clear container holding her sugar. She poured a little into her hand and tasted. “Lexa,” she said, voice trembling. “It’s salt. There’s sugar in the salt container.” Clarke’s eyes filled with tears. 

“Hey, hey. It’s ok,” said Lexa wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “We just won’t add the reduction to the dish. I’m sure the pie will taste fine.”

Clarke shook her head, “Lexa, you aren’t getting it. This is the container I got my sugar from for our pie crust.”

Lexa’s face blanched. “Oh, no.”

Clarke nodded, body trembling with frustration . “It looks like I might be going home tonight. I could kick myself for this. It’s such a rookie mistake. I’m not sure how it even happened. I could have sworn this was the same container I used for my pie filling and I tasted that. It was fine when I put it in the oven. I swear!” Clarke’s lip started to quiver as she felt Lexa pull her in for a tight hug.

“It’s going to be ok, prisa,” Lexa said, kissing the top of her head. “It’s going to be ok.”

“How?” croaked Clarke, leaning back, eyes filled with unshed tears. 

Lexa shook her head. “I don’t know, but it will.”

“Two minutes!” Raven yelled from across the kitchen. 

Clarke wiped away a stray tear, straightening her shoulders. “Well, let’s go see what we have to work with.”

XX

Clarke sat wedged between Lexa’s legs, Lexa’s arms wrapped tightly around her. She could feel Lexa’s quiet tears dampening her hair, but she didn’t have the strength to comfort the other woman. 

Service had not gone well. As soon as the judges bit into the pie, Clarke knew that she’d made the same error. She’d explained to the judges what happened and they agreed that the filling of the pie was perfect. The crust was just a disaster. She must have switched the containers at some point.

Clarke let out a shaky breath, leaning back into the comfort of Lexa’s arms. They hadn’t even had a chance to talk. They’d just entered straight into a state of defeat. The only other chef that had come close to struggling was Ontari. Her bison dish hadn’t been well received and it pained Clarke to know that a poorly conceived and executed dish was going to beat her pie. A pie that Clarke had made a million times before. She’d never made such a stupid mistake and couldn’t believe that she had been so careless. 

She turned in Lexa’s arms, wiping away a stray tear. “Hey,” she whispered. “If I’m not crying then you aren’t allowed to cry either.” 

Lexa let out a choked laughed and nodded. “Ok. I just– I don’t want you to go. We Just–“

Clarke laid a hand on Lexa’s arm, “I know. She said. And she did. Clarke had only decided the evening before that ignoring her growing feelings towards Lexa were only causing her to be more distracted in the competition, not less like she had hoped. The evening before, she’d thought that hey would have more time than this. Maybe a week or two to figure a few things out at the very least, and in the back of her mind she’d let the idea of them competing against each other in the finale bloom.

She wanted that. She could easily see the two of them competing side-by-side until the very end. Lexa, confident but soft putting forward dish after dish of amazing food, pushing Clarke to be more creative and to reach further than she ever had before. Being around Lexa was thrilling for Clarke. The other chefs inspired her, but not the same way Lexa did. 

There was something almost complimentary to Clarke’s style in the way Lexa cooked. Where Clarke liked to scribble outside the lines, Lexa worked meticulously to draw new lines, create new culinary landscapes. Clarke loved rustic plates and Lexa enjoyed refinement with splashes of color. Clarke knew somewhere deep down that, if given enough time, eventually their two styles could meld into something new and unexpectedly amazing.

And now they weren’t going to get that chance. Her heart broke a little at the thought.

“There’s always Last Chance Kitchen,” Raven offered from her seat across the room. Raven hadn’t made it out of this challenge unscathed either. She’d fallen again during the competition and reinjured her leg. Her limp was getting worse, and Clarke could see that she was still in quite a bit of pain.

“Yeah,” said Clarke, putting on a brave face for her friends. “All I have to do is win Last Chance Kitchen and I’m back in the game.”

“You better prepare yourself then, Griffin,” said Octavia. “Because if I get eliminated next, I’m not going to take it easy on you even if I do love you madly.”

Clarke laughed. “I wouldn’t expect you to.”

A throat cleared behind them and the group turned. It was Padma. “The judges would like to see all of you.”

“Well, are you ready to face the firing squad with me?” Clarke said, holding her hand out to Lexa.

She felt warm fingers slide into her own. “There’s no place I’d rather be than stuck with you.”

XX

“Chefs,” said Tom. “This Challenge was a tough one. Wine pairing is something I’ve always struggled with. I’m more of a beer guy,” he chuckled to himself. He cleared his throat, “Still we do have to pick a winner.”

Gail nodded in agreement. “I want to thank all of you for making this such a hard decision. Because this is a team competition, there were three teams at the top and two at the bottom. The three teams at the top will be safe from elimination and one chef from the remaining four chefs will be eliminated.

Clarke felt Lexa reach out to take her hand. They both knew what was coming. Waiting for the inevitable felt cruel.

“The top three teams,” said Padma. “Were Anya and Roan, Emori and Murphy, and Octavia and Lincoln.”

The three teams stepped forward. 

“Honestly,” said Tom, “You all did a phenomenal job with this challenge. But there was one team that absolutely slayed it. Their synchronicity was, at times awe inspiring, and at others, if I’m being completely honest, just a little creepy.”

Everyone laughed. They all knew exactly who Tom was referring to.

Padma continued, “The winner of this challenge was Murphy and Emori from the Nomad crew.”

Murphy let out a whoop, picking his wife up and spinning her around in his arms, finally setting her back down with a loud and playful smack on her lips. It was maybe the happiest Clarke had ever seen him.

“Thank you,” said Emori. “We are truly honored to have one this particular challenge,” she said, linking her injured hand with her husband’s.

“It was well earned,” said Gail. “And I think you two are going to enjoy the prize.”

“I think so too,” said Tom. “In addition to $5,000 furnished by Terlato Wines, you’ve won a week-long trip to the Napa Valley where you’ll enjoy a week of fine dining and wine tasting.”

Both chefs beamed from ear-to-ear.

“Now onto less happy business,” said Padma. The winning groups took a step back and Raven, Ontari, Lexa, and Clarke stepped forward. Their team dynamics couldn’t have been more different. Ontari and Raven stood as far away from each other as possible, backs straight, chins up in defiance, not even acknowledging each other. Next to them, Clarke and Lexa held each other’s arms, stealing as many glances at each other as they could. Occasionally, Lexa would lean down, whispering words of support and comfort in Clarke’s ear, offering whatever stability she could in what was inevitably going to be a bad situation.

“Lexa and Raven,” said Tom. “Both of your dishes were actually quite good. Either could have been a contender for the winning dish this evening.”

“But that wasn’t the challenge,” said Gail.

Padma nodded, “The Challenge was to work together to create two dishes that compliment each other through the wine selection. What went wrong today?”

Raven rolled her eyes, “Ontari refuses to let anyone help her and always thinks she’s right.”

“Shut up, gear head.” Said Ontari.

Padma clapped to get their attention, “Ladies, that’s enough. Since it’s Ontari on the chopping block, we’ll hear from her.”

Raven took a step back, lowering her head, “Yes, Padma,” she said, properly chastised.

Ontari smirked. “I would respectfully disagree with my partner on this. I have been known to take direction very well when that direction is warranted. Today, it was not.”

“Really?” Said Tom. “You and Raven both ended up on the bottom because of your dish. You don’t think she could have helped bring a different perspective to the development of your meal?”

Ontari stiffened, fidgeting just a little where she stood. “Sir, with all due respect, Raven and I do not exactly see eye-to-eye.”

“That wasn’t what I asked. I have had a long career and have had to work with people I’m not fond of several times. That’s part of the job, Ontari. Being a chef, a good one, is more than just wearing the white jacket and cooking great food. It’s also about your command of the kitchen and how you work with others. You failed in both areas today.”

Ontari hung her head. “Yes, chef. Sorry, chef. I’ll do better.”

Tom nodded and turned to Clarke, “Miss Griffin.”

Clarke untangled herself from Lexa and stood tall in front of the panel of judges, looking them each in the eye. “Yes, chef?”

Tom sighed, “I don’t know what happened today. I mean, I guess I do, but I don’t really understand how. Such carelessness seems very unlike you.”

Clarke nodded, “It is, sir. I have no excuses. I simply made a mistake. I understand what that mistake is going to cost me and am prepared to stand behind my dish even though it was flawed.”

“Clarke,” said Gail. “I don’t think it’s a secret that the judges have enjoyed watching you blossom as a chef. You’ve brought so much to this competition. This wasn’t how I wanted or expected to see you go.”

“Thank you, Gail,” Clarke choked out. So this was it then, the judges were telling her goodbye. She’d known this was coming, but had hoped that maybe, just maybe, she could skirt by this elimination.

“I have something to say,” said Lexa, moving to stand just in front of Clarke, shielding her with her body.

“Lexa, don’t. It’s ok,” said Clarke, placing a gentle hand on the woman’s elbow.

Lexa turned towards Clarke, smiling sadly. “Please let me at least try to help, Prisa. Please?”

Clarke nodded and let Lexa continue. Lexa turned back to the judges, squaring her shoulders. Clarke could see a glimmer of the Commander reemerging and she smiled sadly. She was going to miss this woman so much.

Lexa’s voice was thick with emotion but sure as she started to speak. “This Challenge was unusually difficult for me.” Her voice broke. “I– I fell apart before it even started and it was only having Clarke as my partner that got me through it. She was he perfect partner, but I fear that my weakness caused her failure.”

Clarke sucked in a breath. Where was Lexa going with this?

“Clarke would never have been so distracted, would never have made such a silly error, if she had not been looking out for me. I would ask the judges to please consider sending me home I her place.”

Clarke gasped.

“Heda, no” she heard Anya say behind her. Lexa merely lifted a hand, silencing the objections of her second in command.

“You would give up your spot in the competition for Clarke?” Asked Tom.

Lexa nodded.

“Why?” Said Gail. “She’s not in your crew. She’s just a fellow competitor.”

Lexa shook her head, “She is more than that to me. Clarke is– Her people are my people. I swear fealty to her and will do my best to return to the competition honorably.”

Clarke stepped forward, sliding her arm into the crook of Lexa’s, eyes glistening. “Thank you, Lexa. It’s not necessary, but thank you.”

Lexa turned to her, eyes pleading. “Please, let me do this for you. Let me save you.”

Clarke chuckled, “I can’t. I want to be selfish and accept your offer, but I won’t. I won’t be the reason you are eliminated, and you aren’t the reason I’m being eliminated today. This was my mistake and mine alone. I’ll take the consequences.”

Lexa smiled, sadly. “May we meet again?” She whispered.

Clarke laughed, “We will meet again, Lexa.”

Tom cleared his throat. “So– this is more emotion than I’m used to in a cooking competition,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck in obvious discomfort. “Still, we have a decision to make. Well, I guess we already actually know what’s going to happen. Might as well get on with it. Padma?”

Padma took a deep breath, “Clarke,” she started. “Please pack your knives and–“

Padma didn’t get to finish her sentence as the studio lights came flooding on, blinding the chefs and judges. A producer in a dark grey suit walked quickly up to the judge’s table and began to talk in quiet, clipped tones, gesturing between Clarke and Ontari.

“What do you think they are saying?” Clarke asked.

“I don’t care,” Lexa turned to her, eyes bright with tears. “Clarke, why didn’t you– You should have let me go. I would have left for you.”

Clarke reached up, cupping Lexa’s cheek, bringing their foreheads together, “I know that you would have. Thank you for that. But I couldn’t let you. You shoulder so much, Lexa. You don’t need to protect me. Just let me stand beside you.”

“Clarke,” Lexa croaked. “I–“

“Ok. We have some upsetting news,” said Padma. The judges settled into their seats, eyes hard, lips hardened into nearly identical frowns.

“It would appear that the outcome of this competition was a result of sabotage,” said Tom, voice laced with discussed.

The room immediately erupted in the quiet murmurs of the other chefs. What the hell was going on?

A production assistant wheeled a large TV cart into the room and hit play. Clarke watched part of the competition. She was preparing her pie filling, adding sugar from a clear container while Lexa worked next to her. Then Lexa gestured off screen and the pair moved out of the camera frame. 

A few moments went by and Raven and Ontari stepped up next to the stovetop and adjoining counter space. Raven’s attention was completely consumed by a piece of quail she was delicately poaching. Ontari was dicing vegetables for her dish. 

Clarke watched Ontari turn, noticing Clarke’s unattended pie filling. Clarke stiffened. She knew what she was about to see. 

The Ontari on the screen looked around, grabbed the clear container of sugar and put it under the workstation, replacing it with a similar looking container of salt that she hurriedly ripped the label off of.

“What the actual fuck?!” Yelled Raven. “Clarke,” she pleaded. “I swear, I had no idea! I would never–“

“It’s ok, Raven” said Clarke. “We’re fine.”

Raven nodded, face rippling with rage. She rolled up her sleeve, stalking towards Ontari who had backed away during the video, “You! Don’t run off now, you coward! Come get your punishment you piece of filth.”

Ontari stopped her retreat and straightened, “I will not be called a piece of filth by you, Raven Reyes. Not after I have seen you and your… proclivities. You, and the rest of you, disgust me.”

Raven roared, throwing herself towards the larger chef. Ontari sidestepped easily, sticking her foot out to catch Raven’s injured leg. Clarke heard Raven howl in pain and crumple to the ground with a sickening thud.

Anya propelled herself towards Ontari, fully intending to take a swing at the woman. Thankfully Lincoln stopped her, whispering in her ear against Anya’s jerking frame. Whatever he said had the desired effect because Clarke watched the anger seep out of the enraged woman’s body and she nodded. Lincoln let go of her arm and Anya rushes over to Raven’s trembling form, shooting Ontari scathing looks as she walked by.

“That’s enough!” Bellowed Tom, standing from his chair. “Ontari,” he said, gesturing towards the now blank TV screen. “Do you have anything to say for yourself.”

Ontari remained quiet.

Tom exhaled angrily, “Padma, do your thing.”

Padma brought the tips of her fingers together, elbows resting on the table. “Ontari, you have been caught cheating which is expressly against Top Chef rules. For this, you are officially eliminated from the competition and will not be eligible to return via Last Chance Kitchen. Security will escort you back to the Top Chef House where you will collect your things and leave immediately. Get out.”

Roan, who had been quiet up until now, stepped forward. “Judges, may I say something?”

Tom nodded, curtly, “make it quick.”

Roan turned towards the young chef, “Ontari you have shamed me and our people.”

Clarke saw Ontari blanch. “Roan–“ Ontari started, but was stopped by Roan’s steely gaze.

“Azgeda are a proud people and fierce. We are fighters, but we are not cheaters, Ontari. In addition to leaving this competition, you are no longer welcome as a chef at Ice Nation.”

“Roan, please” begged Ontari.

“That’s enough, Ontari. I recommend that you take yourself to my mother. Maybe she can make something of you where I could not.”

Ontari straightened, “Yes, Roan. I will do as you ask. I never wished for my actions to reflect poorly on you or our people. I apologize. You have always been good to me. I’m sorry.”

Roan turned to the side, facing slightly away from the disgraced chef. “It is not me to whom you should be apologizing. A better chef– a better person would recognize that.”

Ontari nodded making her way to the door. She was stepping through when she stopped, turning back to the rest of the competitors and judges. “I’m truly sorry. Clarke, I– I don’t know why I do some of the things that I do, but I hope you can forgive me.”

Clarke crossed her arms, “just go, Ontari.”

Ontari hung her head and then exited the kitchen.

As soon as the door closed, Clarke let out a sob, throwing herself into Lexa’s outstretched arms. She was still here. They were both still here.

 

—————————————————————  
Episode 6: Stuck With You  
Quickfire Winner/Immunity: Roan  
Challenge Winner: Emori and Murphy  
Eliminated: Ontari  
Contestants Remaining: 9  
—————————————————————


	19. Episode 7: Restaurant Wars (Sudden Death Quickfire)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this installement of This Love Cuts Like a Knife, the gang deals with fallout from Ontari’s departure. Lexa and Clarke reach an understanding. A chef is eliminated in a sudden death Quickfire.

All of the lights at the Top Chef House were on late into the evening. After Ontari’s abrupt dismissal, the on-site medics rushed forward to look at Raven’s leg. The usually loud and bright chef cried quietly into Anya’s arms, trying not to cry out in pain every time someone touched her injured appendage. 

They had decided that Raven needed to go to the hospital for X-Rays and had grudgingly allowed Anya to get in the back of the ambulance after she had threatened the paramedics all within an inch of their lives. The last Lexa had seen of her cousin, her face had been drawn and ashen as she smoothed back Raven’s hair, whispering words of support and love as the ambulance doors shut and they drove away.

They hadn’t heard anything since. That had been hours ago.

Emori stood at the kitchen counter busying herself by cutting every vegetable she could find in the kitchen. “Cutting helps me think,” she’d said as she placed her third veggie tray on the countertop. 

Murphy had busied himself by looking after his wife. He disposed of celery tops, cleaned cutting boards, sharpened knives, and even found time to make a spicy jalapeño ranch dip to go along with Emori’s vegetable massacre. “You should have seen her the night we found out she was pregnant,” he said quietly. “She went to the store, came back with $300 of produce and chopped until sunrise. We served veggie everything for an entire week.” He smiled fondly at the memory, shaking his head. “I’m sure Raven will be alright. She’s tough.”

Lexa smiled at him. Murphy’s quiet and slightly sad nature had drawn her in. He was a survivor, like her, and she could sense his need to care for others radiating off of him. She watched as he placed a comforting hand on Emori’s back, whispering something quietly in her ear. Emori sighed, put down her knife, and turned into his arms for a soft kiss.

Lexa left them like that in the kitchen, heading towards the back of the house. There was really only one person she wanted to see right now, and she knew where to find her. 

“Hey,” said Clarke from their window seat. Lexa’s heart stuttered, a feeling she was quickly becoming used to in the presence of the other chef. Clarke had changed into comfy sweats and thrown her hair up in a messy bun. 

“Hey yourself,” said Lexa, leaning in the doorway shyly.

“Come sit with me?” Clarke patted the cushion next to her.

Lexa nodded and took the offered seat, curling into herself slightly, not sure how to start the conversation they needed to have. She coughed, “So, these last few days have been a little intense.”

“I’ll say,” Clarke said, leaning against Lexa’s shoulder. “I still can’t believe that Ontari would stoop that low or that Raven is really hurt. I feel so terrible.”

“Yeah,” Lexa agreed. “Roan has been pacing in the backyard all night. I think he feels personally responsible for Ontari.”

Clarke huffed, “He shouldn’t. Ontari did all of this. It’s not his fault.”

“I agree, but his people– our people are very proud. This will be a big blow to him personally.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine.”

Lexa readjusted on the window seat, facing Clarke, taking her hands into her own. “There’s something else I need to say.”

Clarke tilted her head, “What is it?”

Lexa paused, not sure how to start.

“Lexa,” said Clarke, stroking her hand, bringing it up for a kiss. “Hey, talk to me.”

Lexa looked into Clarke’s eyes. “These last few days have been really intense,” she said again.

Clarke nodded, “Yeah. You already said that.”

Lexa shook her head, “Not just because of Ontari and Raven, but for me and you.”

Clarke furrowed her brow in confusion.

Lexa continued, “I know I haven’t been myself for the last few days, and you’ve gone out of your way to be kind and offer me as much support as you could.”

Clarke let go of Lexa’s hand, drawing away. “What are you trying to say Lexa?”

“Just that, I wouldn’t hold it against you if you decided we have moved too fast, or if you are uncomfortable.”

Clarke folded her arms across her chest, tilting her head. “Uncomfortable how?” She asked in a measured tone.

Lexa reached for her hand, uncrossing Clarke’s arms. “I just– I know I come with baggage. Hell, I think my baggage probably comes with baggage. And that’s not what you came here for. You came for the competition. You came to win. I wouldn’t hold it against you if you said we should go back and forget that last night ever happened.”

Clarke reached out across them, bringing her hand up to gently caress Lexa’s cheek, resting her forehead against Lexa’s. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you for caring enough to give me the option to run.”

Lexa swallowed, heart beating loudly in her ears. “You’re welcome,” she whispered, preparing herself for what inevitably came next.

“But I don’t want to run,” said Clarke.

Lexa leaned back, green eyes wide with shock. “You don’t?”

Clarke shook her head and she settled up against the wall, motioning for Lexa to lean back against her. Lexa did as she was asked, resting her head in the crook of Clarke’s neck, Clarke’s hands coming around to circle her waist, holding her tight. Lexa let out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding in. 

Clarke’s hands traced light patterns across her arm, “You thought I was going to bolt, didn’t you?”

Lexa nodded, “I wouldn’t have held it against you.”

Clarke hummed thoughtfully, leaning down to place a kiss on the top of Lexa’s head. “I would have held it against me.”

“Why?”

Clarke sighed, “Because this is something I want and I’m tired of pretending that I don’t.”

Lexa could feel a smile tugging at the edge of her mouth. “You want me?”

Clarke rolled her eyes, giving Lexa’s arm a playful pinch. “You know I’m attracted to you.”

Lexa laughed. It felt good. “I’m attracted to you too, Prisa. But,” she turned in Clarke’s arms, looking up into sparkling blue eyes. “Is that all this is? Attraction.”

Clarke leaned down, kissing her softly. “No,” she murmured into Lexa’s mouth. “That’s not all this is.”

“Good,” said Lexa and she leaned up to claim Clarke’s lips for her own. They turned into each other, hands tangling in each other’s hair, pulling each other as close as they could get in the confined space. 

Lexa felt her whole body buzz with with the taste of Clarke on her tongue, her lips. She hummed contentedly, and smirked when Clarke moaned at the brush of her hand across her hip. 

“Don’t start what you can’t finish, Lexa.” Clarke said breathlessly.

Lexa chuckled, placing a kiss against the side of Clarke’s jaw, giving her a playful nip. “Believe me, Prisa– I always finish what I start.” She leaned in, fully intent on hearing at least a million more moans from the woman in her arms when the lights in the room turned on.

“Shit,” said Octavia, turning away. “Ummm... Sorry, Clarke,” she stuttered. “I didn’t realize you were busy.”

Lexa buried her face in Clarke’s neck, trying not to succumb to laughter. She should be embarrassed, but couldn’t bring herself to feel anything other than amused as she felt Clarke chuckle underneath her. 

“What is it Octavia?” Asked Clarke, laughing.

Octavia stood with her back towards them, eyes firmly facing forward. “I just thought you’d both want to know that Raven and Anya just got back from the hospital.”

XX

The bright lights of the Top Chef Kitchen were slowly beginning to give Lexa a headache. She could feel the tale tell pulse of pain in her temples beginning to start throbbing. Her only real relief was that the other chefs looked about as good as she felt. They all looked drawn and tired this afternoon after a night with nearly no sleep. 

They were all ready to be done with this Quickfire, whatever it was.

Padma walked into the kitchen, stunning as ever in a fitted blue dress cut tight just above the knees. Her long, signature arm scar on full display under the harsh lighting. “Good afternoon, chefs,” Padma said, her sultry voice floating across the kitchen. “I understand you all had a rough night.”

All of the chefs seeed to nod their heads in unison. 

Padma turned, concern knitting her beautiful features. “Raven, how are you doing? How’s your leg?”

Raven laughed, the only person in the group that seemed to be in decent spirits, “I’m mostly fine, Padma. Thanks for asking. The docs gave me this awesome metal brace and a backup cane, so I’m well on my way to accomplishing my goal of someday becoming more machine than robot.”

Padma laughed and Lexa watched Anya roll her eyes at Raven’s cavalier response. Padma hadn’t been there last night when Raven and Anya had gotten home. Raven had limped into the Top Chef House with her cane and brace, taken one look at the stairs leading to the bedrooms and burst into exhausted tears. Lexa had watched her cousin quietly scoop the smaller woman into her arms and carry her up the stairs and straight to their room. Raven seemed to be in better spirits today, but Lexa wondered how long that could possibly last. 

“Today’s Quickfire is especially important,” said Padma. “I’ve invited our Head Judge, Chef Tom, to join us today.”

“Hey, chefs!” said Tom, waving as he entered the kitchen. Lexa groaned. It was never a good thing when Tom showed up before an actual elimination challenge. She smiled a little when she heard Clarke let out a pathetic whine from the workstation next to her. 

 

Tom chuckled at the less than enthused response from the contestants. “Yeah, I get it. It was a long night. Chefs, this competition is grueling in the extreme. We’re just over halfway there and we are set to pick up steam and really raise the stakes from now until the finale. And it all starts today.”

Padma nodded, “Chefs, today you will be competing in a Sudden Death Quickfire.”

“The rules are simple,” said Tom. “Everyone's a winner except the loser. From now until the end of the competition, there will be no more immunity. Anyone can go home at anytime. The chef that comes in last today will be leaving us immediately and will not be going on to the challenge.”

Lexa stiffened. She’d seen season of Top Chef where several contestants had been eliminated during a sudden death Quickfire, but she hadn’t thought it would come so late in the competition. Her palms began to sweat. She still wasn’t feeling quite like her usual self, she could still feel the itch to have a drink or five, and she knew the added stress wasn’t helping. Tom droned in about the rules of the Quickfire. Lexa didn’t hear any of it or even notice when Padma yelled “Go!”

Lexa felt a hand come to rest on her lower back and flinched away from the light touch only to turn and see Clarke staring up at her, concern swimming in her eyes. Clarke reached out again, hand hovering just above Lexa’s arm. “You okay?” She asked quietly. “I looked over and you had zoned out.”

Lexa exhaled, “I’m fine.”

Clarke frowned.

“Okay, I’m not fine,” said Lexa, rubbing the back of her neck. “I’m still feeling a little off from the last few days. I can’t quite seem to find my center.” She reached out to take Clarke’s hand. “I’m doing better though, I promise.”

 

Clarke nodded, “Ok. Just let me know if you need me.”

“I will,” agreed Lexa. “Thank you, Clarke,” she said softly. “It’s nice to have someone looking out for me.”

Clarke shrugged, “You’d do the same for me. Plus, I can’t have you going home just yet. I believe you said something last night about always finishing what you start,” Clarke winked.

Lexa’s mouth went dry. Her mouth opened and closed, trying to say something back, but words failed her as images of Clarke filled her mind.

Clarke laughed, “Keep it in your pants, Commander. We’ll talk later, promise,” she leaned up to kiss Lexa on the cheek. “We’ve got a challenge to win.”

Lexa grinned, looking up to survey the room for the first time since the Quickfire has officially started. The Top Chef Kitchen, usually full of running chefs and licking flames, was quiet. All of the chefs were gathered around Roan’s station.

“What’s going on?” Asked Lexa. “Is this part of the challenge?”

Clarke shook her head, equally confused. “Definitely not. Let’s go see what’s happening, shall we?” She held her hand out for Lexa’s.

Lexa loosely linked their fingers together and walked over to where the other chefs were quietly but heatedly talking.

“You can’t,” Lexa overheard Raven say.

Roan crosses his arms, eyes steely. “I can and I will. I’ve made up my mind.”

“What’s going on, guys?” Clarke asked as they approached the table.

Murphy rolled his eyes, “Good! Maybe one of you can talk some sense into him!”

“Sense into whom?” Asked Lexa.

“Heda,” said Lincoln, seriously. “Roan wishes to forfeit.”

Roan held up a hand, “Not forfeit. Forfeiting would make me ineligible to win Last Chance Kitchen. I simply mean to lose this challenge and be eliminated.”

“But why?” Said Lexa. 

Roan turned to face Raven and Anya. “Because one of my people wronged you. She wronged you and this is the only way to make amends. Blood must have blood.”

Raven gestured at him angrily, “He just keeps saying that! What is this blood must have blood crap? What the hell is going on?”

“It’s an old tradition between our people and his. He’s trying to restore his honor and the honor of his people.”

Raven threw her hand up in the air, “Well, tell him to stop! You’re the Heda, right? You can make him stop this.”

“I will talk to him, Raven. But I make no promises. The rest of you should get back to the Quickfire.”

Raven limped away with help from Anya and Lexa watched the other chefs wander back to their stations. 

Everyone but Clarke. Lexa smiled down at the blonde chef who hadn’t let go of her hand yet, “I’m ok here, Clarke. Go and work on the Quickfire challenge. 

Clarke shook her head. “I’m not leaving you or him.”

Lexa sighed, resigned to Clarke’s stubbornness but pleased to have her support. “Roan? What is this? Why sacrifice yourself?”

Roan exhaled deeply, laying his palms flat against the counter. “Because it is right.”

Lexa looked around the room taking in the other chefs. “I don’t think anyone here blames you for what happened with Ontari.”

Roan’s head snapped up, piercing blue eyes boring into hers. “They may not, but I do,” he said, placing his hand over his chest. “She was mine, Heda. Mine to teach. Mine to train. My responsibility. And she tried to sabotage you. And I let her,” he choked out.

“Roan,” said Clarke, reaching clasping his forearm. “What happened with Ontari was terrible, but we all just want to move on.”

“I cannot,” he shook his head. “Not like this. Blood must have blood.”

Lexa rolled her eyes, placing a hand on her hip. “Roan, our people have not upheld the idea of blood must have blood for over a century. It’s an antiquated system.”

“But there is honor in it. That’s what I am in search of, Heda. I need to earn my place back in this competition.”

“By being eliminated?” She asked.

Roan nodded, “If I am meant to return to this competition, I would do so through Last Chance Kitchen. I’m not afraid of a fair fight, Heda.”

Lexa chuckled darkly, “You certainly are not.” Lexa tilted her head, considering. “What if I asked you, as Heda, as the leader of our people, not to do this? To simply compete?”

Roan’s jaw clenched. His hands curled into tight fists on the counter. “I would do as you asked,” he said gruffly. “I would do it because you are Heda, but I would lose my respect for Lexa. I would not wish to injure that relationship.”

“Nor would I,” conceded Lexa. She straightened, letting go of Clarke’s hand to walk around the counter, clasping Roan’s shoulder. “Roan of Azgeda, I have only one thing to say to you.”

Roan hung his head.

Lexa leaned in to lightly kiss his cheek. “May we meet again,” she whispered. 

Roan looked up, shock written across his features. “Heda– I,” He started to stammer. Then he collected himself, reaching out to pull Lexa into a hug. “Thank you, Heda. May we meet again.”

She nodded.

“So, you’re going?” Said Clarke, tears I her eyes. “Just like that?”

Roan nodded. “Just like that, Prisa.”

Clarke laughed, wiping away a small tear. “I hate that everyone calls me that.”

“Sure you do,” teased Roan. He stepped around the corner, giving Clarke a friendly hug and kiss on the head. “Take care of the Commander.”

“I will,” she said.

“I’m going to go tell everyone goodbye.” he said, jogging to the next station.

Lexa watched him talk to Lincoln who stopped chopping his vegetables and clasped arms with the Azgeda chef. She was still watching when she felt Clarke’s hand slip into hers. 

“I can’t believe this is how he’s going,” said Clarke, leaning into her shoulder.

Lexa hummed. “It was right for him. I think this decision will allow him to forgive himself for Ontari’s wrongdoings and hopefully move on. To be honest, I feel a little bad for whoever is in Last Chance Kitchen right now. Roan is a fearsome competitor and an insanely talented chef. I always thought he’d go to the end with me.”

Clarke swatted her arm, laughing “You saw him at the end competing against you? I think I’m a little offended, Commander.”

Lexa laughed, swinging her arm around Clarke’s shoulder, leaning down to kiss the curly mop of blonde hair. “I haven’t seen you across from me in the finale for a while now, Clarke. When I think about the finale I see you next to me or really me next to you. We work side-by-side to make the impossible a reality.” She shook her head, clearing away the thought. “You must think that’s silly.”

Clarke squeezed her around the waist, leaning her head against Lexa’s chest. “No, Lexa. I don’t think it’s silly.”

 

————————————————  
Episode 7: Restaurant Wars  
Eliminated (Sudden Death Quickfire): Roan  
Immunity: N/A  
Contestants Left: 8

————————————————

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Roan steps into Last Chance Kitchen.


	20. Last Chance Kitchen: Roan vs Maya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next installment of Last Chance Kitchen. Who will be victorious and who will be eliminated for good?

Roan Cold, head chef of Ice Nation, former prince of Azgeda was a proud man. He had always carried himself with honor, had tried to be an example for what remained of his people. It was one of the reasons he had started Ice Nation in the first place. He wanted Azgeda refugees, though there were few still alive, to have a place of their own.

Ice Nation was all that truly remained of Azgeda, but no one need ever feel abandoned or go hungry if they were willing to work. Roan liked to think he was a fair and patient man. He’d helped his people learn the ways of America, had taught some to read, some to cook, they’d built homes together, and learned to laugh again in the face of a political revolution that left millions without homes and the Azgeda people with less than one thousand to call their own.

That’s why losing Ontari hurt so much. She had been one of his and had knowingly betrayed the values he tried to instill in all of his young chefs. He felt like a failure as a mentor.

And that she had betrayed the Heda? Roan shook his head. Lexa Woods was an ally. She and Roan were some of the last leaders of their peoples. They should be working together to restore the living memory of both Polis and Azgeda. Roan had hoped to have the opportunity to discuss such ideas with the other chef later on in the competition. Ontari has betrayed that idea, that hope. How could Roan approach the Heda now except through an act of penance?

That’s how he found himself here, standing in front of his old workstation in the Top Chef Kitchen, waiting for Tom and his competition to walk through the door. Roan slowly unrolled his knife kit, stroking the tools lovingly. He felt most like himself when he was getting to cut into something in the kitchen. Food made sense. Cooking made sense. The controlled chaos in a kitchen made sense.

“Good afternoon, Roan.” Said Tom, breaking through Roan’s internal musings.

Roan nodded, “Afternoon, Chef Tom.”

“Ready to get started?”

Roan straightened his shoulders, “Yes, chef. Thank you for the opportunity, chef.”

Tom’s smile flashed, “No need to be so formal, Roan. We’re not in the military. It’s just Top Chef.”

Roan relaxes his stance some. “Still.” He said. “I’m grateful for the opportunity to redeem myself.”

Tom tilted his head and replied seriously. “There is nothing for which you need to be redeemed, Roan. What happened with Ontari was her choice, not yours. From what I can see you have been an excellent mentor and I think it goes without saying that you are an excellent chef.”

“Thank you for your kind words, Chef Tom.”

“So, onto the competition,” said Tom, rubbing his hands together. “Who do you think you’ll be competing against today?”

Roan considered for a moment before supplying an answer. “I believe it could be Echo. She’s been my sous chef for years. I know how talented she is, but quick tests like this have never been her strong point. She more methodical in nature, so I guess I really don’t know.” He shrugged. “I look forward to finding out though.”

“Ok chefs, come on out and take your seats.” Tom yelled over his shoulder. Roan watched all of the eliminated chefs but one walk into the kitchen and take their seats on a series of stools. Echo was the last to enter, and she took her seat next to Bellamy.

“So, I guess I’m not competing against Echo?”

Tom smiled, “Nope. You really called it there too. Echo put up a fierce fight but the time limitations in her head-to-head got the best of her and she was eliminated.”

“I swear I had more time,” Echo called out across the room. The other chefs laughed, giving her sympathetic pats on the back.

“Well,” started Tom. “You’ve seen who’s been eliminated so far. The eliminated chefs will watch you compete today. This group has been a little rowdy, so you should prepare yourself for some helpful and decidedly unhelpful advice.”

“I still think chocolate covered beef tips sound good!” Yelled Jasper from his seat. Everyone groaned.

“See what I mean?” Chuckled Tom. “Decidedly not helpful.”

“Trying not to be offended over here,” said Jasper, huge smile plastered across his face.

Tom rolled his eyes and turned back to Roan. “Since Jasper could do this all night, I think we should go ahead and call out your competition.”

“You’re just intimidated by my verbal stamina, Tom. But you know you love it,” Jasper hooted.

“Has he always been like this?” Asked Roan.

Tom shrugged, “I’m genuinely not sure. I’m pretty sure he’s been getting stoned before each challenge and sneaking into the pantry after for snacks.”

Both chefs turned towards the young man happily rocking back and forth on his stool, oblivious to their stares. “So strange,” said Roan.

“Agreed,” nodded Tom. “There’s really nothing strange about your competitor this evening except that their rise to the top of Last Chance Kitchen has surprised everyone including me. This chef has tackled these challenges head on and never wavered. They’ve taken down chef after chef by being methodical, creative, and by cooking really delicious food.”

“Then I look forward to this competition,” Roan grinned. “A worthy opponent is hard to find.”

“I don’t think you are going to be disappointed,” said Tom. “Why don’t you come out and join us in the kitchen, Maya?”

Roan watched the young woman walk out. He had a vague impression of Maya from the first round of the competition. Weeks ago she had seemed small and unsure of herself. Now, she carried herself with a shy, but steady confidence that Roan found appealing. Transformations like this were what he liked to supply for his own chefs back at Ice Nation.

“Good to see you again, Maya,” Said Roan, holding his hand out for a shake.

“You too, chef” she replied, clasping his hand firmly in her own.

“That’s my girl!” Whooped Jasper. “She’s kicking ass and taking names!”

Maya blushed, “Don’t pay any attention to him. He’s just excited.”

Roan laughed, giving her hand a quick pump before letting go. “It’s fine. And you should be very proud. You’ve beat a lot of truly talented chefs to get here.”

She ducked her head, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear in a nervous gesture. “I guess so.”

“I look forward to our challenge. May the best chef win?”

Maya looked up, steely determination in her eyes, all traces of her shyness wiped away. “I plan to.”

Tom laughed, “She’s grown more confident each week, Roan. To be honest, she’s really earned it. The challenges we’ve put her through haven’t been easy.”

“Like I said, chef Tom, I look forward to going head-to-head with a worthy opponent.”

“In that case, let’s get started. This week is all about things that suck. Well, one thing that is,” said Tom.

Roan watched two production assistants roll out a large table covered in ice. Nestled in the cold surface were two covered dishes. Roan’s hands itched to know what was underneath. 

“Thanks,” said Tom as the production assistants wandered off. “Ok, chefs. Ready to see what you are working with today?”

“Yes, chef!” Said Maya. Roan nodded. Tom lifted the lid and revealed the secret ingredient for this challenge.

“Octopus!” Squealed Maya, clapping her hands together.

“I take it you’ve worked with this product before?” Smiled Tom.

Maya shook her head. “Not really.” She said. “The Nomad food truck isn’t often near the coast to get the really fresh stuff, but a few of my favorite dishes have octopus in them. I’m excited to get to work with the product.”

Tom nodded, turning to Roan. “What about you?”

Roan smiled, nodding. “Some.”

“He’s just being modest,” said Echo from across the room. “We’ve got octopus on our menu back at Ice Nation. Roan has a fresh shipment brought in from Spain once or twice a year. He’s nuts for the stuff.”

Tom chuckled, “Is that true?”

Roan shrugged. “Like I said, I have some experience working with this product.”

“A mild understatement, I’m sure.” Said Tom. “Chefs, I’m going to give you one hour to create the best octopus dish you can. Be sure to pay particular attention to this dish. It’s hard to know when you’ve overlooked something with octopus. If you overcook it, it immediately becomes rubbery. That’s not an experience I expect to have here today.”

Both chefs nodded.

Tom took out a time, set it to sixty minutes and hit the start button. “Go!” He yelled.

Maya immediately took off for the pantry while Roan walked over to the table and octopus selections. He knew that having the superior product would likely decide the winner for this dish rather than the garnish. He picked the first octopus up, smelling for freshness and checking its firmness. 

He did the same with the second and then stepped back to consider. Maya was running back from the pantry, bus tub full of supplies. Roan took one more look at his options and then grabbed the first octopus. It was just a little fresher than the second one and would be easier to work with.

He took the full octopus over to the stove, threw it in a pot with wine, garlic and herbs, and then threw the cork from the wine bottle on top before covering the dish to let it marinade.

“Why did you throw the cork in,” Asked Maya, peering over his shoulder.

Roan shrugged, “My grandmother used to tell me that the cork kept the octopus from getting chewy.”

“How?” She asked, slapping her Octopus down on the grill, flames licking up the sides.

Roan laughed, “I have no idea. I just know that it works.”

Maya joined in on his laughter, nodding along as she worked her octopus into the perfect grilling position. “I kind of love that about cooking. The heritage of it all. The passing down of memories and techniques from one generation to the next.”

Roan took a long look at the young chef before responding, “Yes. That’s exactly how I feel as well.”

Maya looked over, smiling broadly, wiping her hands clean on a towel. “Well, no matter who here wins today, it’s nice to know we have something in common.”

“Indeed it is,” said Roan as he watched the young chef bolt back towards the pantry.

Roan knew exactly what he was going to make with his octopus. It wasn’t something he had on his menu back at Ice Nation, but the dish had been rattling around in his head ever since the seafood challenge the second week of the Top Chef competition.

He had this idea of marinated octopus, tentacles cut into delicate pieces after having been grilled on an open flame. He’d make a creamy, thickly spiced sauce to garnish the plate, and then add chickpeas, a microgreen salad, and shaved fennel.

Roan worked on his sauce and salad components while he waited for the octopus to marinate. Once the timer Tom set got down to about fifteen minutes, he walked over to his pot and opened the lid. Roan smiled. The octopus had taken on the deep purple color of the wine, and he could smell the richness of the garlic permeating the dish. It was turning out exactly as he had hoped.

He took some tongs out and slapped the octopus down on the grill causing the flames to jump up, hissing as they caught onto the edges of the protein and caramelized the sugars in the wine. Roan walked away from the grill. 

Overworking the octopus was a bad idea, so he started plating. He streaked the dish with his vibrantly orange sauce, scattered chickpeas across the plate, and delicately placed his salad to one side of the dish. If nothing else, this dish was going to have color.

He returned to the grill to flip the octopus over, getting a good sear on each side and looked up at the clock. He’d timed this challenge well. 

Roan looked over at Maya and saw the young chef standing back from her dish, frowning in concentration. Roan shrugged and then walked over. “What are you frowning at?” He asked.

Maya jumped a little, hand clutched to her chest. “Geez. Don’t sneak up on a woman with a knife like that.”

Roan smiled apologetically. “I meant no harm. You just seemed a little preoccupied.”

Maya turned back to her dish, frown returning to her face. “It’s missing something,” she said. “And I can’t figure out what it is.”

Roan nodded, familiar with that exact sensation from years of running his own restaurant and developing new dishes. “Explain the dish to me?”

Maya gave him a cursory once over, “Aren’t we supposed to be competing right now? Why are you helping me?”

Roan crossed his arms, leaning against the workstation casually. “Because I like to help, I guess. Truly, I’d like to help you if you’ll let me, Maya.”

“Go for it, babe!” Yelled Jasper. “What have you got to lose?”

Maya smiled at Jasper’s antics.

“Someone certainly believes in you,” Roan nodded towards Jasper.

Maya blushed, “He really does. I just wish I had the same faith in me that he does.”

“You don’t?”

She sighed, rotating her dish, trying to get another potential angle on the problem. “I do. At least, I think I do. I definitely know I’ve got potential.”

Roan chuckled, “I’d say you have more than just potential if you beat all of these chefs head-to-head.”

Maya laughed softly, shaking her head. “That was more about getting over my own embarrassment. I still can’t believe I got eliminated first. I promised myself that I would move past it and fight as hard as I could to win.”

“And now?”

Maya looked up at him, “I still want to win.”

Roan nodded in approval. “Good,” he said. “So tell me what the problem is.” He walked over to the grill, grabbed his octopus, threw it onto the cutting board section of his work station and began to slice off the best pieces.

Maya took in a breath. “So, the dish is a gazpacho. It’s cold enough, the base is solid, I’ve got my octopus cooked, but the flavors are flat.”

“Why?” Said Roan, beginning to plate his octopus.

Maya turned to him, hand on her hips. “If I knew, we wouldn’t be talking about it,” she huffed.

Roan laughed, “fair enough. So let’s go back to basics. It’s almost always something like that if the flavors aren’t coming out the way you want.”

“Ok,” said Maya. “Walk me through it.”

“Seasonings?”

“Plenty,” She said.

“Salt and pepper?” 

“Check and check. Though I am tempted to add a little more salt.”

Roan smiled. He knew what the problem probably was. Now to see if Maya could figure it out on her own. “Why does the dish need more salt?”

“I don’t know,” said Maya. “I just think it does.”

“And if you add more, will it be over salted?”

Maya considered, “I think it will be.”

Roan nodded, “So what’s the answer then?”

Maya looked at her dish, really taking it in. Roan could see the wheels turning in her head. Then she straightened, huge smile lighting up her face. “I got it!” She exclaimed excitedly, turning to Roan.

She ran over to the older chef, throwing her arms around his waist. “Thanks, Roan!” Maya said, leaning up to give him a chaste peck on the cheek.

Roan smiled down at the young chef, ruffling her hair. He pointed to the timer which ticked down from two minutes. “Thank me later. Right now you have a dish to fix.”

Maya yelped and ran back to the pantry and Roan chuckled at her enthusiasm. He’d been the same way not too many years ago. 

Maya returned from the pantry with a single lemon, sliced it, and squeezed across the top of her dish as Tom yelled “Time!”

Both chefs put their utensils down and put their hands up, ready for Tom to taste their food and make his decision.

Once Tom started to make his rounds, Roan strolled over to Maya’s station where she was talking to Jasper excitedly.

“Jas,” She said. “It was citrus the whole time! I would have been done for if I’d added more salt! All it needed was a hit of lemon to bring out the flavors. God! I feel incredible.”

“Babe, I’m so proud of you,” said Jasper, enveloping her in a hug. “I knew you could do it!” 

“So did I,” said Roan.

The two young chefs broke apart, sobering in front of the older chef. “Very nice recovery, Maya.”

“Thank you, chef” she said, blushing with pleasure. “And thank you for your help.”

Roan waved off the compliment, “I didn’t do anything but act as a sounding board. You already knew how to fix the dish in the back of your mind. I just helped coax it out.”

“Still,” She said. “Thank you. It was– It was unexpectedly pleasant.”

Roan laughed, “Unexpectedly pleasant. The highest of compliments.”

They stood together talking for a bit, waiting for Tom to call them back over with his final decision. They didn’t have to wait long.

“Chefs,” said Tom. “I genuinely loved both of your dishes. The octopus was utilized perfectly and both were perfectly cooked. I can’t begin to tell you how pleased that makes me.”

He turned to Maya, “Your dish, Maya. Wow. This is the only way I may ever want to eat gazpacho again. That little bit of acid right at the end really made the dish sing, and your octopus was perfectly grilled.”

She beamed, “Thank you, Chef Tom.”

“And Roan… holy crap, dude. This is one of the best dishes I’ve ever had on all of Top Chef. You need to put it on your menu ASAP. Don’t change a thing. In fact, I may steal this dish from you.”

Roan chuckled. One of the highest compliments in the culinary world was a chef of Tom’s caliber trying to recreate your dish. “Thank you, chef.” He said.

Tom nodded. “Ok. Now for the hard part. Honestly, I hate to eliminate either of you for these dishes because they were just that good. But I have to because those are the rules. So, instead of stringing this out longer than it has to be… Roan, you are the winner today.”

Roan reached out, clasping Tom’s hand. “Thank you, chef. This means a lot to me.”

“I know it does, and I hope this has helped ease any guilt you may still be feeling over Ontari’s departure.”

“It’s certainly a start,” said Roan. He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned. 

Maya stood there, smile on her face, hand outstretched. “Great job, chef.”

“You too, chef,” he smiled, taking her hand. “Your dish was amazing.”

She rolled her eyes, “Only because you were there to help me out at the end.”

Roan shook his head, “I doubt it, Maya. I think you show great promise. In fact–“ Roan stopped, an idea coming to him. “Can you wait here just a moment?” He asked Maya.

She nodded.

Roan walked over to Echo who was casually leaning against a wall trying to hide a smile as Bellamy Blake charmed her with a story of culinary disaster. “Can I borrow my chef for a moment, Mr. Blake?”

Bellamy coughed, “Of course. See you later, Echo.”

She nodded.

Roan stood next to her and they surveyed the other chefs. “He likes you,” He said, warmth in his voice.”

Echo nodded. “And I like him too. He’s simple and sweet. He’s also one hell of a cook.”

“Not as good as you though?”

She shrugged, “Are they ever?”

Roan laughed, clasping her shoulder. After a moment he paused, “I have something to ask you.”

“Go ahead.”

“A favor really.”

Echo turned, “I’m listening.”

Roan nodded towards Maya, “How would you feel if I took on a new second?”

Echo crossed her arms, considering the request. “What about Ontari?”

Roan sighed, “I’ve asked her to leave Ice Nation after her outburst. I–“

Echo placed her hand on his shoulder, looking up at him. “You don’t have to say anything else. I understand.” She turned back towards the kitchen. “And you think this Maya is a suitable replacement?”

Roan grinned, nodding. “I think she would take exception at being called anyone’s replacement. But, yes. I think she would thrive at Ice Nation and I think she wants to be mentored. But I won’t extend the offer unless you are comfortable with the idea.”

Echo huffed, “You are our leader. You don’t need my permission to do anything.”

“Well, I want it then,” said Roan. “It’s important to me.”

“She’s not Azgeda,” stated Echo.

“Is that a problem?”

She shook her head, “Not for me. It’s just been awhile since we’ve had any outsiders in the restaurant. It might shake things up a bit.”

Roan heard Maya’s bright laughter cut through the kitchen and he felt his lips curl into a smile. “I certainly hope she does.”

“Then go get her,” said Echo, gesturing towards the young chef.

Roan nodded. “Thank you, Echo.”

She smiled, “You’re welcome, chef.”

Roan walked back across the kitchen to where Maya was surrounded by a group of the other eliminated chefs. “Hey,” he interrupted their discussion.

Maya silently asked the other chefs for a moment with him and suddenly Roan was alone with the young chef. She smiled up at him, “So, what was it you wanted to tell me?”

Roan smiled, “Well, I’ve got a proposition for you…”


	21. Episode 7: Restaurant Wars (Challenge Prep)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our competitors prep for Restaurant Wars. 
> 
> Note: Most of the chapter is fluff, but I assume that’s what you came for. Delicious food in the next chapter.

Where we last left our chefs...

Roan left the Top Chef Kitchen with tears and hugs from all of the remaining contestants and a shout of “Kick some major ass in Last Chance Kitchen!” from Raven. Tom and Padma shook Roan’s hand, leaving the kitchen and the remaining chefs behind to face the next elimination challenge.

“Well, that was an unexpected turn of events,” said Tom. “I think we’re all going to miss Roan in the competition.”

Padma sighed, turning away from the exit. “I’m certainly going to miss those cheekbones.”

“Down girl,” whispered Raven.

Everyone chuckled, letting out nervous energy as they waited for the next challenge to be set into motion.

“Chefs,” said Padma. “Now that there are only eight of you left, you know what that means.”

“Padma, if you say Restaurant Wars I might lose my mind!” Raven called out. She was leaning heavily on her cane but seemed to be in good spirits as far as Lexa could tell.

Tom laughed, “Reyes, it is my utter delight to tell you that it is, in fact, time for Restaurant Wars.”

“Hell yes!” Said Raven.

Raven wasn’t the only chef excited about this particular challenge. Lexa had watched several seasons of Top Chef before coming on the show and Restaurant Wars was one of her favorite concepts.

The chefs would be put into groups of four. They were then given two empty restaurants with literally no tables, chairs, or decorations of any kind. The team came up with a concept and opened a pop-up restaurant in a little less than 24 hours. 

Lexa had seen restaurants both fail and succeed over the years, but eliminations and wins typically came down to who was controlling the front of the house where all of the servers and guests were, and who ran the kitchen and made sure the food was perfect. 

It was an enormous amount of pressure. Lexa had felt a little off her game for the last few days, but there was just something about this challenge that lifted her spirits. It also didn’t hurt that Clarke stood next to her, squeezing her hand in excitement. She genuinely hoped they ended up working together on this challenge. 

Lexa felt a little like she had been robbed in the previous challenge. She’d been too busy having an internal breakdown to enjoy the act of creating a dish from scratch to finish with Clarke. She wanted another opportunity to see if they could collaborate in the kitchen to make a winning dish.

“The rules of Restaurant Wars are pretty simple,” continued Padma. “Each chef will be required to prepare two dishes for a four course meal. Each team must have an executive chef and someone in charge of the front-of-house staff. The team with the most cohesive concept and best food as rated by the diners and guest judges will be declared the winner.”

“And we’ve got a little surprise for you too,” said Tom. “The diners you serve tonight aren’t just people from off the street. We’ve invited back eliminated chefs from past seasons of Top Chef to join us this evening. Some of them have been where you are now, so expect them to be particularly insightful where food is concerned. You’ll want to make sure you’re bringing your best.”

Padma nodded along as Tom talked. “Chefs,” She said. “We’ll also be joined at the judges table by a notable Top Chef alum, Carla Hall. She’s sold millions of cookbooks, was voted fan favorite on two separate seasons of the show, and can currently be seen everyday on daytime television. She’s an expert on everything Top Chef, so don’t disappoint her.”

Tom rubbed his hands together, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “You all ready to find out what team you’re on?”

The room hummed with excitement. “So, we are doing things a little differently this year. In years past we have let the winner of this quickfire choose an opponent to lead the second team and then they selected the rest of their teammates playground style. Roan leaving kind of killed that idea. So we’ve come up with this idea instead.”

“Chefs,” said Padma. “Since this season of Top Chef is Crew vs Crew, we thought it would only be fitting to keep crews together. Some crews are still mostly intact, and a few are decimated at this point.”

Tom nodded, “Roan’s departure means that Ice Nation was the first full Crew to be dismantled. This challenge is going to be a huge test of loyalty, skill, and determination. Restaurant Wars is no joke.”

Padma nodded. “Indeed. So, here are the teams as they stand. The green team will be the entire Grounders crew. You all are the last fully intact team. Joining your team will be Raven from Zero-G since she’s the last remaining chef from her crew. The other remaining chefs will be the red team.”

Lexa sighed softly to herself. It looked like she and Clarke would, once again, be pitted against each other in the competition. She felt Clarke lean heavily into her side and took the opportunity to swing her arm around the waist of her rival, pulling her in closer.

Tom continued, “Chefs, believe me when I tell you that Restaurant Wars is a marathon and not a sprint. This is where we start to separate the allstars from everyone else. I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a little fun for me.”

Clarke stood next to her team’s Rav4, waiting for the production assistants to give them directions to their respective restaurants. Top Chef usually chose spaces big enough to accommodate both teams or neighboring restaurants. With so many great spaces to work with in Houston, Clarke wasn’t worried about having a usable space. She turned to where Lexa spoke quietly with Anya and Lincoln. No, she wasn’t worried about where she was going to be cooking at all. She was worried about competing, once again, against Lexa. 

As if sensing her inner distress, Lexa’s eyes moved to Clarke, offering her a resigned smiled. She shrugged and mouthed, “You, ok?”

Clarke sighed, leaning into the side of the SUV, nodding her head, sliding her hands into the pockets of her jacket. She lifted her face up to the sky, drinking in the strong, warm rays of the Texas sun. Her brow crinkled when a shadow clocked her light. 

“Hey,” Lexa’s rich voice called her out of her thoughts. 

Clarke opened her eyes, smiling. “Hey,” she said, sliding her hands into Lexa’s, leaning into the warmth of Lexa’s body. 

Lexa wrapped her arms around Clarke. Clarke could feel the smile growing on Lexa’s face as the other woman leaned in to lightly kiss the top of Clarke’s head. “I looked over a moment ago and saw the most gorgeous woman leaning against this car.”

Clarke laughed, burying her face in Lexa’s shirt, breathing in her crisp scent. “Oh, yeah?”

Lexa tilted Clarke’s chin up, capturing her lips in a soft kiss. “I could get lost in kissing you, prisa,” Lexa murmured against her lips.

Clarke groaned, stealing a quick kiss from Lexa before untangling herself from her arms. “As much as I would like to get lost with you, we probably need to concentrate on the competition. Lexa pouted, shoulders slumping and Clarke laughed. “One more kiss and then we go back to being enemies?”

Lexa rolled her eyes, “We aren’t enemies, Clarke. But I’ll take that kiss. You had better make it a good one.”

Clarke raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Feeling confident now are we, commander?”

Lexa shrugged, grinning the entire time. “Just trying to make sure you bring your ‘A’ Game, prisa.”

Clarke snagged the front of Lexa’s shirt, pulling the woman’s body into her own, gratified to see Lexa’s eyes widen and a breathy gasp escape her lips. Then Clarke’s lips were on Lexa’s, exploring, lightly nipping those full lips, tongue flicking out to ask for entrance. She turned them around, backing Lexa into the SUV, hand creeping up underneath Lexa’s soft t-shirt to find warm, soft skin to skim her nails across. Lexa let out an honest to goodness moan and it was by far the most delicious sound she’d ever heard. Clarke softened the kiss, pulling back just a little. Lexa eagerly followed, eyes closed. Clarke rested a hand on her chest, pushing her back gently, enjoying the way Lexa’s eyes slowly fluttered open to reveal blown pupils.

She grinned, “Good enough for you?”

“I don’t know if it was good enough for her but damn, Clarke, that kiss may have finally convinced me that I’m bi,” said Octavia, fanning herself dramatically. “I’m going to need a really cold shower after that display, or maybe just some time alone with Lincoln. He’ll have to do since it looks like Lexa is a little busy at the moment.”

Clarke laughed enjoying the look of pure horror that crossed Lexa’s face. “She’s kidding, Lexa.”

“I don’t think she is, Clarke,” Lexa whispered. “That’s my cousin she’s talking about ravishing.”

Clarke chuckled, “Well, I think we’ve put on enough of a display for today. See you tonight?”

Lexa nodded, “At our window?”

Clarke nodded, leaning up to steal a last kiss before pushing Lexa back towards her cousins. “Knock ‘em dead, Commander.”

“So, what’s the theme of our restaurant going to be?” Raven said, popping her head in between the seat backs of their RAV4.

Anya pulled the eager chef back into her seat, carefully pulling the seatbelt across her lap and buckling her in. “Would it kill you to practice general safety standards, Reyes?” Anya huffed grumpily.

Raven only laughed, shifting back to lean herself into Anya’s waiting arms. “I trust you to keep me safe, Anya.”

Anya sighed, tenderly stroking the brace on Raven’s injured leg. “Not safe enough it would seem.”

Raven tilted Anya’s face up so that they were eye level. “This,” She said, covering Anya’s hand with her own. “This wasn’t your fault, Anya.”

Anya looked away only to feel Raven’s hands imploring her to make eye contact. 

“I mean it,” she said. “This isn’t anyone’s fault but mine and Ontari’s. I never should have goaded her on and she never should have taken the bait. Now we are both suffering. But, Anya, this didn’t have anything to do with you. Please know that.”

Lexa watched from the rear view mirror as her cousin leaned in, wrapping herself tightly around the smaller chef. She knew what it was like to feel guilty, to be the cause of someone else’s pain. This competition had helped her clear her head, to see that Costia’s death, while gut wrenching, was not truly her fault. It was time to put old wrongdoings aside and focus on building a better future for herself and for her family.

Lincoln coughed, “I was thinking,” he said, the clear timbre of his voice filling the SUV. “How would you all feel about a walk in the woods for our restaurant?”

“Come again?” Said Raven.

Lincoln shrugged, “I just thought, we’re going to miss it this year if we move too much further in the competition. It seems fitting.”

Lexa considered, “A walk in the woods. I like it.”

“Me too,” said Anya from the back seat, lips brushing Raven’s hair.

Raven looked at the three cousins in bewilderment, “Any of you going to tell me what you’ve all just decided without me? Come on! Don’t leave me out.”

Lexa chuckled, “We’re not leaving you out Raven. Let me see if I can explain this.” She paused, searching for the words. “A walk in the woods is sacred for our people. It’s a time of remembrance and forgiveness. It’s a time when we hold the living close and try to let the dead go so that they can live their lives and so that we may live ours.”

“Kind of like Dia day los Muertos?”

Lexa nodded, “Yes, I suppose it is very similar.”

Raven smiled, snuggling into Anya. “I like that idea. A meal to honor the fallen.”

Lexa nodded, “Exactly. A meal to honor their lives and to let go of past sadness. A chance to heal.”

“And you want to do all of that with one meal?” Raven asked Lincoln.

Lincoln smiled softly, looking at his cousins. “It seems appropriate for this challenge since we are finally all together.”

Anya squeezed Raven, “He’s talking about you too, Raven.” She whispered into her ear. “You’re part of the family now. I won’t be letting you run away again.”

Raven laughed, “Even if I didn’t have a bum leg, the only place I’ve ever been interested in running is back to you.”

“She’s softened quite a bit, don’t you think, Lexa?” Teased Lincoln.

Lexa laughed at the furious stare Anya shot their direction, “I think we all have Lincoln. And I’m not sure that’s a bad thing.”

“Hey there, handsome!” Said Clarke when she ran into Lincoln at the restaurant supply store. “You on front of the house duty too?”

Lincoln nodded, returning his attention back to two mostly identical candlestick holders. “Do you know which one of these most says ‘honor and remembrance?’ Lexa was very clear that the dining room should have that tone.”

Clarke looked at the candlestick holders. “I hate to tell you this, Lincoln, but I don’t think either of those are going to work.”

Lincoln’s head snapped up, “What? Why not?”

Clarke laughed, turning them the rest of the way over, “Mostly because these are $50 a piece and unless you are going to serve a four course meal featuring wax, you’re going to need to find something different.”

“Come on,” She said, looping her arm through his. “I’m sure there are some candlestick holders that just scream ‘honor and remembrance’ in the $5 section.”

Lincoln let out a nervous chuckle, a light blush coloring his caramel skin. “Thanks, Clarke. I think I may have been spiraling a bit there.”

She patted his arm good naturedly. “Don’t sweat it, big guy. We’ve all been there at this point in the competition.”

Lincoln hummed in agreement. “To be honest, I didn’t think it would be this hard.”

Clarke nodded. “Me either. The challenges really take it out on you, right?”

Lincoln shook his head. “No. I mean, yes, the challenges are quite hard, and they only seem to be getting harder. I just didn’t expect to care so much.”

“About winning?”

Lincoln smiled, shaking his head. “About the people.”

Clarke nudged his shoulder, “Oh, I get it. This is about Octavia.”

Lincoln blushed. “Yes, it is. But truthfully, Clarke, I have come to care a great deal about many of the other competitors. This is the most at peace I have felt since my cousins and I fled Polis. I never truly imagined I would feel this way again.” He looked at Clarke, “I feel that much of that is owed to you, Clarke Griffin.”

“Me? Why me? Because of Lexa?”

Lincoln nodded, running his hand over a silver candlestick holder. “She has been— different since she met you. Less solid perhaps.”

Clarke’s eyebrows raised, “That doesn’t sound like a good thing, Lincoln.”

He smiled, picking up a few items and placing them on his palette. “But it is. She was so in control, so made of rock that I feared she would break. That’s what rock does Clarke, it holds as much pressure as it can and then it simply shatters into a million pieces. Now, with you, Lexa is metal. She can bend. She can breathe. I know it is early in whatever journey you two are on, but that is no small thing to me, Clarke.”

Clarke leaned up, placing a delicate kiss on Lincoln’s cheek. The tall chef, rubbed the spot. “What was that for?” He asked.

“That, Mr. Woods, may be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. If Octavia doesn’t snatch you up permanently, come and find me later.”

Lincoln laughed, “And risk the wrath of the Heda? Never.”

Clarke shrugged, “Well, it was worth a shot.”

Lexa hummed to herself as she walked through the Top Chef House. She was delighted at the progress their pop-up restaurant was making. They had settled on the name of “Tree and Bird” in honor of the Woods cousins and Raven. Lincoln had assembled the front of the house and the ambiance was intimate, candlelight licked the walls, throwing shadows across the floors and ceilings. The walls were painted a lovely forest green and Lincoln had painstakingly stenciled tiny ravens across the border of each wall. He’d even found a spare moment to create a logo for their restaurant, a curved tree, lush and full of foliage with a single bird perch on its branches.

Lexa sighed contentedly. Thus far, Restaurant Wars had proven to be a mighty challenge, but had also lifted her spirits. She caught the glint of moonlight falling across blonde hair and pale skin as she approached the window seat and felt her heart flutter. Maybe she dared let her spirits soar a little higher. Surely if doing so meant she would be burned by the son like a modern day Icarus, it would be worth it. These moments spent with Clarke Griffin would always be worth it.

“Hey,” She said, approaching the window. Clarke looked up from her notebook, eyes lighting up with Lexa’s arrival. “Mind if I join you?”

Clarke held out her hand for Lexa’s and Lexa felt herself let out a wild laugh as Clarke pulled her into her lap, wrapping her arms around Lexa’s middle, burying her nose in Lexa’s hair. “Have I ever told you that I adore your curls?” She murmured.

Lexa hummed in thought. “I don’t believe that you have, but I’ll take the compliment.”

Clarke chuckled, “I do. They are so wild and so soft. They make me want to run my hands through them.” Clarke’s attention wandered from her hair and Lexa shivered as she felt Clarke press a light kiss to the back of her neck, then her shoulder, finally settling by resting her chin in crook of Lexa’s neck. 

Lexa turned her head, lips searching for Clarke’s, letting out a deep and content sigh when they found each other. Finally breaking apart a few moments later, eyes fluttering open.

“Hey,” said Clarke.

“Hello, Clarke.”

“I missed you today.”

Lexa sighed, curling into Clarke’s frame resting against the wall. “I missed you too.”

“How are things going with the green team?”

Lexa twined her hand with Clarke’s. “I hate to jinx us, but I think things are going pretty well so far. Our menu is aggressive and is going to take a lot of coordination, but I think we can pull it off.”

Clarke nodded as Lexa talked. “And what about Raven? How is she holding up?”

Lexa shrugged. “I can tell that she’s still in some pain, but she seems to be handling things well for now. Anya is watching her like a hawk ready to swoop in and offer a cold compress at a moments notice.”

“Good. I’m glad Raven has someone to watch out for her. And you? How are you holding up, Lexa? You had a rough couple of days leading up to this.”

Lexa leaned back so that Clarke was staring down into her eyes. “Worried about me, prisa?”

Clarke’s lips tugged up at the corners as she brought her forehead down to rest against Lexas. “Would you be upset if I said I was?”

Lexa rubbed her nose against Clarke’s and pulled the other woman in closer into her arms. “No, it wouldn’t upset me. I worry for you too, Clarke, though perhaps not for the same reasons. But I feel fine, I promise. Strong even. This is the best I’ve felt in a long time.”

“Good,” said Clarke, closing the distance between their lips. “I like to see you happy.” She whispered in between kisses. “I like to see you feeling strong.”

Lexa smiled into her kiss, eyebrow raised mischievously. “And what if I like to see you weak, Clarke?”

Clarke leaned back, confusion written on her face. “What?”

“I said, what if I like to see you weak?” Lexa hummed, nipping Clarke’s collarbone, dipping her tongue into the hollow of Clarke’s neck, delighting in the quiet moan the other woman let out.

“If this is the kind of weak you like to see, commander,” Clarke said, eyes smoldering with want. “Sign me up,” and she pulled Lexa flush to her body, hands tangling in her curls.

The kiss changed from gentle to frenzied in moments and Lexa swore her brain short circuited. Clarke was everywhere at once, her energy was frantic with a need to get closer, feel more and Lexa’s head spun with the desire to see the woman underneath her completely unravel, to lose sight of everything but each other, to hear her name called out across Clarke’s lips in ecstasy.

If she didn’t have Clarke now, she felt she might combust. She wanted to swallow each of Clarke’s moans and make them her own. She wanted to brand Clarke’s skin with millions of tiny kisses and bites so that there was no doubt the next day as to what the two meant to each other. It wasn’t just lust, this need felt primal in nature.

“Lexa,” said Clarke, snapping Lexa out of her own thoughts. Lexa looked down at Clarke whose lips were swollen, hair a messy tangle of blonde, shirt rucked up just beneath her bra exposing smooth, pale skin. Clarke stretched up to Lexa, capturing her lips again. “Please,” she moaned. “Don’t make me wait anymore.”

Lexa’s eyes darkened, “As you wish, Prisa.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took me quite a while to write the next few chapters but I feel like I have a large enough chapter bank to see us all the way to the end without further interruptions. Fingers crossed!
> 
> Next time on This Love Cuts Like a Knife: Restaurant Wars is officially on! Who will survive the cut and who will pack their knives and go?


	22. Episode 7: Restaurant Wars (The Challenge)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two teams of chefs battle it out in Restaurant Wars.

Clarke stepped back from the menu board, wiping her hand across her brow, leaving behind a small streak of white chalk. Hand on her hips, she took in her handy work. The black easel simply said “Olive.” 

It was a name that Emori and Murphy had come up with trying to describe their Mediterranean seafood restaurant. Clarke had been the obvious choice to run the front of the house since the trio of Murphy, Emori, and Octavia were not really known for their ability to be “polite slaves to culinary know-it-alls ” as Murphy so eloquently put it. 

In truth, she’d rather be back running the kitchen, but leaving Emori in charge as Executive Chef gave Clarke a sense of peace. Emori knew how to run a kitchen and Clarke was confident that they could pull off this win. 

Clarke had prepared the first and last course for her two dishes. For a starter, she had baked thick, crispy bread loaves to be served family style at the table along with a selection of Mediterranean olives, cheeses, meats, and olive oils. Octavia had declared the dish charcuterie board heaven, so Clarke was confident that it would be well received by the judges.

It paired especially well with Octavia’s opener, a classic Greek salad. There wasn’t anything remotely fancy about the dish, but Octavia could execute it well. Clarke knew that it wouldn’t win Octavia any awards, but it wasn’t a dish that would likely get Octavia sent home either.

Clarke’s second dish was much more ambitious since she couldn’t actually prepare the dish herself. She had opted to create a lemon and olive oil ice cream to be served with a candied lemon twill. Thankfully, she had managed to get the ice cream to set and into the machine before needing to abandon her team to finish front of the house prep, but she worried that Murphy was going to run out of time to finish her twills while he worked on his own dessert.

For now, she simply had to hope for the best. She took one last look around the dining room, pleased to see the earthy tones of a Greek village playing out on the walls, reminding her of her time outside of Athens several years ago.

When she’d abandoned her life after her dad’s death, Athens had been her first stop. Jake had often told her that, long before he fell in love with her mother, he had given his heart to this city. Clarke had hoped that being there would make her feel close to him, and it had. She had traveled the streets alone, wandered up the windy road to the Acropolis, and watched the sun set over the ocean. It was the first time she allowed herself to think about a future without her father without feeling sad. 

Now, she wondered what it would be like to climb that same path with Lexa’s hand in hers. To see Lexa laugh at the goats effortlessly bounding up the steep slopes where they struggled just to put one foot in front of the other. She wanted to see her eyes light up as the sailboats returned to port at the end of the day like so many colorful dots on the horizon, slowly getting closer and closer. She wanted to see Lexa’s skin bronze under the sun, to kiss her wind chapped lips in a candlelit restaurant like the one she had created here.

She wanted a future with Lexa. 

Clarke stopped her walkthrough of the restaurant, surprised by where her mind had so quickly taken her. It was true that she and Lexa had an undeniable connection and, after last night, Clarke knew that their chemistry was off the charts. She was still glowingly sore in a few places from last night and she knew Lexa was probably in a similar state. 

Still, a night of great sex didn’t mean that much in the grand scheme of things. At least, Clarke didn’t think it did. But she couldn’t help a nagging feeling like she and Lexa had just shoved a relationship boulder down a hill. Clarke needed to figure out fast if she wanted to step off of the path, or let the boulder crush her in its swift descent.

But she didn’t have to decide tonight. Tonight was about her and her team. Thoughts of a certain green eyed goddess in the restaurant across the street would just have to be put on the back burner for now.

XX

“Take that sauce of the back burner, Raven. I can smell it starting to burn from here,” yelled Lexa across the kitchen.

“Shit! Sorry, Commander,” Raven said, turning down the stovetop. She limped back over to the oven to check on the dessert pastries. Still not cooked enough. “Damnit!” She said in frustration. “We May have a bigger problem than that sauce, hot stuff. Lincoln’s pastries still aren’t cooking”

Lexa stopped her chopping, sparing a glance at Anya who only shrugged, “Don’t look at me,” her cousin said. “I don’t do desserts.”

Lexa rolled her eyes, swatting Anya with a towel, “You are useless sometimes, you know that?”

Anya chuckled bemusedly, “And yet you still love me. Now please, go help my girlfriend with Lincoln’s dessert before she implodes.”

“Did I hear my name,” said Lincoln, calmly walking into the kitchen.

“Oh thank God!” Raven declared, grabbing his arm and pulling him over to the oven. She pointed at the offending pastries, “See! They aren’t cooking, Linc! Why aren’t they cooking?”

Lincoln looked at the pastries, and then at the oven. He opened the door and smiled. “Well, little bird, I find that pastries often cook best when the oven is actually on instead of just the oven light.”

Anya threw her head back and howled with laughter, “You didn’t turn the oven on? And you think I’m a branwada.”

Raven stood staring at the oven, mouth agape. “I swear I turned it on! I know I did. I made the pastries, came over here, pressed the buttons to preheat and then put the pastries in when the timer beeped that the oven was ready.”

Lincoln chuckled, bending over to the bottom oven door. He opened the door and warm air wafted out. “Looks like you turned on the bottom oven and not the top oven. Simple mistake, little one. It could happen to anyone.”

Raven crossed her arms, “Not to me it doesn’t,” she huffed. “And stop calling me little. I’m not little.”

Lincoln removed the pastries, and placed them in the bottom oven, closing the door. “I mean it as a term of affection. You are only small in stature Raven. In every other measure, you are a giant. I mean no disrespect,” he said, throwing an arm good naturedly around her shoulders and bringing the much smaller chef in for a hug.

Raven huffed, the air moving small wisps of hair out of her face. “You’re lucky that I believe you. Now get back out to our guests.”

Lincoln laughed, “Yes, ma’am. Right away. Although, I did come back here to tell you all something.”

Lexa looked up from her work, “Yes, Lincoln? What was it?”

Lincoln opened the swinging doors separating the dining room from the kitchen and called over his shoulder, “The judges are here.” He smiled, taking in the horrified faces of his teammates. “Try not to freak out too much.”

XX

“I need two snapper, three bread, two salad, three ice cream, and three lamb,” Emori called out into the kitchen.

“Yes, chef,” Murphy and Octavia said in unison as Clarke walked into the kitchen.

“How’s it going back here, guys?” She asked.

Murphy scowled, “Your chef here keeps missing scales on the fish.”

“Am not!” Defended Octavia.

Murphy crossed his arms, glaring.

Octavia huffed, rolling her eyes. “It was one scale, Murphy, and I caught it before it went out to the dining room.”

“Barely,” he muttered.

Octavia threw her hand up, “We can’t all be perfect like you, Murphy. Oh wait, you’re not perfect either. It wasn’t me who burned the first batch of twill!”

Clarke was about to step in between the two bickering chefs when Emori barked, “Quiet the both of you.” Both chefs stopped arguing. “Octavia, get back to your station. And John Murphy, so help me God. You may be the father of my child, I may love you within an inch of your life, but I will murder you with my own bare hands if you don’t get back to those desserts, understood?”

Murphy smirked, crossing the kitchen to kiss his wife on the cheek. “Yes, chef” he said and walked back to his station.

Clarke chucked, walking over to Emori. “They been like that all night?”

Emori rolled her eyes, “Of course they have been. Those two morons are more alike than they are different which is basically my living nightmare. I can only handle one Murphy in my life.”

Clarke pointed at Emori’s barely showing baby bump, “Technically there are two Murphy’s here this evening.”

Emori laughed, patting her stomach affectionately. “I suppose you’re right. Still, I can only handle one full grown Murphy at a time.”

“Fair enough,” said Clarke. “Can I lend a hand with anything?”

Emori shook her head. “I’ve got this under control for now. I’ll let you know if I end up needing you. Have the judges arrived yet?”

Clarke shook her head. “Not just yet. I saw them walk into the other restaurant about an hour ago, so it could be any minute.”

“Then get your good looking ass back out on the floor,” Emori pushed her away. “We don’t want them showing up with no one to greet them! You know they hate that!”

“Fine, fine,” said Clarke, letting the other chef push her towards the door.

XX

Lexa felt like she had been hit by a truck. In twenty four hours, her team of four had designed, planned, prepped, and opened a restaurant. They’d served nearly two hundred guests in about five hours from an untested menu. Things had mostly gone well for the team at Tree and Bird, but there had been a few hiccups here and there. It wasn’t a perfect service, but it was one she was proud of.

She looked around the room and saw that the other chefs were as bad off, if not worse, than she was. Raven had her leg propped up on a bench, grimacing as Anya gently kneaded the injured appendage. Raven had been a trooper tonight, battling through the pain. Lexa was proud of her, and she watched Anya methodically rub feeling back into the aching leg of her girlfriend. They’d come so far together, she didn’t want it to end tonight.

The other thing she didn’t want to end tonight was currently lightly drooling on her shoulder. After telling Lexa about the service at Olive, Clarke had promptly passed out. Lexa brushes back stray strands of blonde hair to look at the other woman. Clarke wasn’t a delicate sleeper. As if to prove a point, she let out a tiny snore and cough, snuggling in closer to Lexa, letting out a contented hum of approval when Lexa wrapped her arm around her shoulder, drawing the other woman closer.

No, Lexa didn’t want their journey to end tonight either. 

It worried her that both teams felt they had performed well. Neither was without error, but both groups seemed to feel that their performance had been above average for Restaurant Wars. The judges had been deliberating for close to four hours and neither team had been called back yet.

The waiting was torture.

Lexa turned her head when she felt someone settle in on her other side. 

“Hey,” Said Octavia, drawing her knees in to her chest so that she could prop her head on her arms. “Mind if I join you?”

Lexa nodded. “As long as it doesn’t wake Clarke up, I’m happy to have you keep me company Octavia.”

Octavia gave her a toothy grin, nodding towards Clarke’s sleeping form. “Looks like you really War her out.”

Lexa blushed, “I’m sure it was the competition and not–“ she stammered.

“Relax, Commander”she said, giving her a light tap on the arm. “I’m not giving you a hard time. Truth be told, I haven’t seen Clarke this mellow in years.”

“Really?” She always seems very collected to me.

Octavia shrugged, “Well, she’s gotten good at hiding it, but our girl is basically a bundle of nerves wrapped in anxiety. Did she ever tell you why we came on the show?”

Lexa shook her head. “She did not.”

“It’s so we can keep the restaurant open.”

Lexa’s brows lifted, this was news to her. “I thought the restaurant was doing well? It’s won a few awards and always seems to be reasonably busy.”

“It is,” said Octavia. “But we’re just getting by. San Francisco is an expensive place to live and we’re all basically just making it paycheck to paycheck. We’re only able to be here right now because Clarke’s mom agreed to foot the bill for a few months. Killed Clarke to ask for money, but I guess she thought this was important enough.”

“Clarke’s mother has money?”

Octavia laughed, “Yeesh, there’s a lot you don’t know, Commander.”

Lexa looked down at the sleeping woman in her arms, frown creasing her features. “Yes, apparently there is much still left to discover. Thank you for telling me, Octavia. I can be sure to help Clarke with her worries.”

Octavia considered her for a moment, “I didn’t tell you so that you could take care of her, Lexa. Clarke can take care of herself.”

Lexa narrowed her eyes, “So why did you tell me, Octavia?”

Octavia nodded towards Clarke, “Because she cares about you, more than I think she realizes, and right about now is when she usually starts to pull away.”

Lexa felt her hand subconsciously pull Clarke’s sleeping form closer to her. “Pull away?”

Octavia nodded, “Yep. Seen her do it a million times. But it’s different with you. I don’t know how and I don’t know why. Don’t really want to know to tell you the truth. But you’re different. You’re important to her. So when she tries to run,” Octavia paused, looking seriously at Lexa. “Don’t let her.”

XX

Clarke let out a yawn. She’d fallen asleep on Lexa’s shoulder almost as soon as they’d gotten to the stew room. She’d slept until both teams were called in by the judges. She was still battling her drowsiness, but couldn’t help but be amused by the small drool stain on Lexa’s otherwise spotless chefs coat. She moved her hand to try and fix Lexa’s collar only to find her hand fully entwined with the other woman’s, fingers held just a little tighter than usual.

Clarke frowned, “You ok, Lexa?”

Lexa stares at her, searching her eyes for some sort of sign. Apparently seeing what she was looking for, she let out a sigh and let go of Clarke’s hand. “I apologize, Clarke. I think I’m a little on edge this evening.”

Clarke reached out, stroking Lexa’s cheek with her hand. “I think we’ve all been a little stressed lately, Lexa. It’s fine. You can talk to me, you know.”

Lexa nodded. “I know, prisa. And I thank you for that. And you know that you can talk to me as well if there is ever anything you would like to share. I can help. I want to help.”

Clarke laughed, “Why is everyone so serious tonight? Did I miss something during my nap? Did the judges decide to let Ontari rejoin the competition?”

Lexa let out a shaky laugh, straightening her jacket. “I’m sure it’s just nerves.”

Clarke crooked an eyebrow in concern, “Ok, Lexa. Whatever you say.”

“Chefs,” said Tom. “Again, you all have made tonight almost impossible. I think it’s safe to say that this is the best Restaurant Wars we’ve ever had.”

“It was certainly the closest,” said Padma.

Tom nodded. “What did you think, Carla?”

Carla Hall was a tall woman with big, bushy black and grey hair. She wore oversized glasses perched on a slightly crooked nose, and seemed to smile with her entire body. “Tom, let me tell you, this evening was absolutely divine. It made me want to Hooty Hoot all the way back to New Orleans.”

Gail let out a laugh, “I’ve missed your sense of humor at the judge’s table, Carla.”

“Girl, what have I told you a million times? You can have me anytime you want. Have your people call my people and I can be camera ready to eat in no time. Because this is Top Chef. The culinary arena, and it’s not every day that someone asks me to be Caesar.”

Tom laughed, “Right you are Carla.”

“That’s probably what makes this so difficult,” said Padma. “Both teams were absolutely wonderful tonight. It feels wrong to send anyone home for these meals.”

“And yet, the show must go on,” Carla said with a dramatic wave of her hands.

“I suppose so,” said Gail.

“Carla, as our guest judge tonight, will you please reveal which team has won Restaurant Wars?”

“As long as I don’t have to tell anyone to pack their knives and go, I’m good. I’m still not over being eliminated… twice! Y’all are cruel.”

Tom coughed.

Carla waved him off. “Right, right. We’ve got a job to do.” Carla turned towards the contestants, sizing them up over the rim of her glasses. “Chefs,” she began. “Restaurant Wars is a battlefield that has claimed many casualties. It’s the top of the mountain before this competition pushes you downhill straight towards the finale. It’s the ultimate test of endurance and talent. And you all did marvelously.”

Carla smiled, “The winner tonight had nearly flawless execution in the back of the house, and gave the dinners a superb experience at the front of the house. A version of this restaurant could open tomorrow and thrive almost anywhere in the country. The food was lovely and deeply personal, and I’d like to thank you all for sharing this experience with us. The winner of Restaurant Wars is Tree and Bird.”

Raven let out a whoop next to Clarke and she watched the chefs hug each other in congratulations. 

“But there was one chef who stood above the rest this evening.”

“There certainly was,” said Gail. “Balance is hard to find in the kitchen. It takes a tremendous amount of skill to orchestrate a well executed dish.”

“Agreed,” said Padma. “And it takes even more skill to do all of that and still run the front of the house.”

Tom smiled, “Which is why the winner of Restaurant Wars this year goes to Lincoln.”

Clarke watched Lincoln blush from head to toe and quietly walk forward to shake the judges’ hands, accepting a bottle of wine as a reward. Clarke was thrilled for the gentle giant who had won over her friend and who had been a rock of peace in this storm of a tv show right from the beginning. The judges had really gotten it right tonight.

“Sadly,” said Padma. “We must now move on to the elimination portion of the evening.”

Clarke straightened her back and held her head high. She was proud of the service they had pulled off this evening and, if she was eliminated tonight, this was a challenge she could go down feeling good about.

“We’ve all agreed that Emori and Octavia are safe from elimination this evening,” said Tom. “Their dishes were essentially technically flawless, and while Octavia’s salad isn’t going to win the whole show, that lamb dish was the best damn thing I’ve eaten in years.”

Octavia beamed, “Thank you, Chef Tom.”

“Emori,” said Gail. “You lead the kitchen with ease. You’ve stayed more towards the middle of the pack this season and I can’t help but think that you’ve been fooling us all. You’ve got a lot of grit and a lot of heart in you. I like that in a chef.”

Emori nodded.

“Murphy and Clarke,” said Tom. “To even consider you for elimination feels wrong. I want you to know that we really did go around and around on this one.”

“It really came down to execution more than anything else,” said Gail. “You both our out really exceptional dishes.”

“Girl,” said Carla. “When I cracked open that bread and watched the steam rise out, I thought I had died and gone to Italy! And if that’s what heaven is, count me in!”

Clarke let out a nervous laugh, pleased that her additions to their menu had been appreciated.

“Murphy,” said Tom. “You’ve often struggled with control in this competition. It’s almost like you don’t think you deserve to be here. Why is that?”

Clarke felt Murphy stiffen beside her. “It’s because,” his voice cracked. “It’s because I don’t feel like I do,” he admitted.

“Come now Murphy,” Padma coaxed. “You know that can’t be true or you wouldn’t have made it even this far.”

Murphy shrugged, “I’m a survivor. It’s what I do. I don’t need to be the best. I just need to be better than the guy going home.”

“Well, that’s a shitty way to sell yourself short,” said Gail. “Murphy, I find myself sitting here enormously pissed at you. Because I see something. I see it in you and in your food. It’s time for you to stop surviving in life and start thriving. Do you think you can do that?”

Murphy raised his head, meeting Gail’s gaze. “I can certainly try.”

“That’s all I’m asking,” said Gail.

Tom nodded. “Padma, would you like to share the elimination results?”

Padma sighed, “This is undoubtedly the worst part of this job.”

“At least you look good doing it,” joked Carla.

Padma laughed and turned back to Clarke and Murphy. “Like the judges said, you each put up excellent dishes this evening. Superb really. This is one of the harder cuts we’ve made so far.”

Clarke reached out blindly to grasp Murphy’s hand. His palm was sweaty in hers and she wasn’t sure if she could feel his heart racing or if it was her own heart pumping out a steady rhythm in her head. She squeezed his hand, and felt a light squeeze in return.

“Murphy,” said Padma. “Please pack your knives and go.”

Clarke pulled Murphy into her, bod wracked with sobs. She could feel the man in her arms dampening her collar with his own tears and they held each other quietly for a few moments while they tried to collect themselves.

Once they had their emotions a little more under control, they stepped apart and looked at each other. Murphy reached out, tossling Clarke’s hair. “You look like shit, Griffin,” he joked.

Clarke sniffed, wiping at her eyes with the sleeve of her jacket. “If That isn’t the pot calling the kettle black, I don’t know what is, John Murphy. At least a little makeup can fix my face. There’s no hope for your ugly mug.”

Emori came up behind Murphy, sliding her arm through the crook in his elbow. “Mind if I steal my husband away for a minute?”

Clarke nodded, “Of course.” She turned away from the couple who had begun to talk quietly among themselves to see Lexa walking towards her, concern etched upon her features. 

“You ok?” She asked.

Clarke shook her head, “No, I don’t think I am.” 

“Come here,” said Lexa, opening her arms. Clarke went into them willingly, glad that the other woman was there to hold her up as she fell apart. Murphy was going home and there wasn’t anything she could do to save her friend.

She stood in the circle of Lexa’s arms until her crying subsided and Lexa murmured into her hair, “Something is going on at the judges’ table.”

Clarke looked up to see Emori talking animatedly with the judges and one of the producers. Tom looked shocked and Gail and Carla wore matching grins.

“What do you think is going on there?” Said Clarke. 

“No idea,” said Lexa. “Want to go find out?”

Clarke nodded into Lexa’s shoulder. She turned away from Emori and the judges and towards Murphy who was picking his nails underneath the exit sign. Clarke drew comfort from Lexa’s fingers threaded through hers as they approached the newly eliminated chef.

“What’s going on with your wife?” Asked Clarke.

Murphy rolled his eyes, planting a foot on the wall behind him. “She’s just over there being Emori.”

“What exactly does that mean?” Said Lexa.

Murphy looked down at his fingernails in disinterest. “She’s quitting.”

“What?” Gasped Clarke.

“That’s what I said,” Murphy chuckled. “But come on, Clarke. You know how she gets. Once she’s made up her mind, that’s it.”

“That’s insane,” said Lexa. “The judges just told her that she was on the rise. And what? Now she just throws it all away?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” chuckled Clarke. “Remember when she did that internship with Bourdain?”

Murphy smirked, “I was pretty sure they were going to kill each other.”

“Me too,” laughed Clarke.

“She misses him you know,” Murphy said quietly. “She never really got over the fact that they parted on bad terms. She never got a chance to make things right between them.”

Clarke sighed, “I felt the same way when my dad died. Even when you know someone is dying, it still has a way of catching you by surprise. There are still things that go unsaid and wounds that never really heal.”

Murphy nodded. 

Lexa coughed, rubbing her neck. “So she’s just going to quit? Just like that?”

Murphy nodded. “Just like that. She said she’s tired of moving around all the time and she’s ready to put down some roots, God help me. She said it’s a symptom of the pregnancy. Nesting and all that.”

Clarke chuckled, “Ah, now that makes sense. Plus, you know she has a hard time sleeping without you.”

Murphy blushed, looking away. “Yeah. God, when did we become those people, Clarke?”

Clarke shoved Murphy’s shoulder playfully. “Becoming those people was the best thing that ever happened to you and you know it. Do you remember what a little piss you were before Emori? You were basically feral.”

Murphy chuckled, “Yeah, maybe. Still, sucks to go home when you don’t really have a home to go back to.”

Lexa straightened,“What if you did have a place to go?”

Murphy looked up from his clean nail beds. “You got an extra house somewhere, Commander?”

Lexa shook her head. “Clarke, how would you feel about Murphy and Emori running your restaurant for a bit?”

Clarke blinked, “What?”

“Yeah, what?” Said Murphy.

“Think about it,” said Lexa. “It’s perfect. They don’t have to compete in Last Chance Kitchen if Emori is sick of this place and you don’t have to keep the restaurant closed.”

Clarke considered. “It’s not the worst idea I’ve ever heard.” She looked at Murphy. “What do you say, Murphy? Feel like taking care of things in San Francisco while I’m gone? You and Emori can use the upstairs apartment as long as you promise to keep it clean.”

Murphy rubbed the back of his neck, “You’d do that for me?”

Clarke shrugged, “Sure I would, Murph. We’re family. This is what family is for.”

Emori wandered up, jacket thrown casually over her jacket. “It’s official,” she declared happily. “I quit.”

Lexa nodded, “We heard.”

Emori smiled, “Feels good to leave on my own terms.” She leaned over to give Murphy a quick kiss. “Ready to take me home?”

Murphy laced his fingers with hers, pulling her out of the kitchen. “How would you feel about spending some time in San Francisco?” Clarke heard him ask.

She was going to miss them.

She gasped, covering her mouth in horror.

“What,” said Lexa, concern in her voice. “What wrong?”

Clarke buried her face in Lexa’s shoulder. “I just realized that they are probably going to have sex in my bed.”

Lexa throw back her head and howled with laughter. She leaned down and kissed Clarke’s forehead. “Yes, I imagine you’re right.”

Clarke grimaced. She was going to need new sheets.

—————————————————————  
Episode 7: Restaurant Wars  
Challenge Winner: Lincoln  
Eliminated: Murphy  
Quit: Emori  
Contestants Remaining: 6  
—————————————————————

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on This Love Cuts Like a Knife: We’re down to the final six. Three couples remain. Which one will be split apart first?


	23. Episode 8: Something’s Brewing (Quickfire?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after Emori and Murphy leave. The chefs make a few discoveries and learn about their next elimination challenge.

The warm Texas sun was creeping in through the bedroom window when Clarke woke. She opened one eye and then the next feeling, for a moment, unsure of where she was until she felt warm skin beneath hers and smiled. 

She resisted the urge to bury her face into Lexa’s warmth and instead chose to simply look at the beautiful woman sharing her bed. Well, technically this was Lexa’s bed, but Clarke was past technicalities at this point. Lexa slept peacefully. Clarke had rarely seen her look so relaxed, so unguarded and at peace. It made something flare up deep within Clarke, something she couldn’t quite define yet, but she had an urge to protect this woman, or at least these moments, as much as she could.

Giving into temptation, Clarke leaned down to place an affectionate kiss on Lexa’s exposed collar bone. Her kiss was met with a huff and frown from the other woman.

“Clare, beja” grumbled Lexa. “Why must you be up so early.”

Clarke buried her face in Lexa’s neck to hide her smirk, pleased when strong arms wrapped around her to pull her closer rather than push her away. She leaned up to place another light kiss on the corner of Lexa’s jaw, “It’s not that early, I swear.”

Lexa cracked open an eye to look out the window. “You lie, prisa,” she huffed. “The sun has barely started to rise. I doubt even the roosters are up at this hour.

Clarke laughed, leaning up to meet Lexa’s eyes. “Have I told you how endearing I find your morning grumpiness?”

Lexa scowled, “I am not grumpy, Prisa.”

Clarke threw her head back in laughter.

“Hey,” protested Lexa. “I’m not. I simply believe in rising to greet the day at a humane hour.”

“Oh, and what time would that be?” Teased Clarke. “Sometime after ten?”

Lexa rolled her eyes, reaching for her discarded glasses on the nearby nightstand. “Rather than delve into my aversion to mornings, I’d like to discuss why you decided to wake me up at the ungodly hour of,” Lexa checked Clarke’s wrist watch. “Eleven fifteen? That can’t be right.” She turned to the bedside alarm clock, relieved to see that it showed six thirty.

Clarke smiled, showing off her timepiece. “It doesn’t work, Commander” she chuckled. Clarke rolled to the edge of the bed, looking for her pants. “And where are my clothes anyway? I don’t remember taking them off last night and I only seem to be wearing underwear.”

Lexa blushed, “Well, we were both pretty tired when we got in last night. I went to brush my teeth and when I came back, you were passed out on the bed fully clothed.”

Clarke arched a brow, “So you undressed me?”

Lexa nodded sheepishly. “I had planned to put you in pajamas, I swear. I just— I had a nearly impossible time getting you out of your close, and I was so tired and,” Lexa rambled.

Clarke stopped Lexa, placing a hand on her ankle. “I’m not mad, Lexa” she chuckled. “I’m just amused that you didn’t put your own pajamas on.”

Lexa crossed her arms over her bare chest, “Well that would hardly be fair now would it?”

Clarke laughed, “Hardly. And I must say, the view from where I’m sitting is pretty stunning.”

Lexa laughed, throwing her hands up, “And now you’re hitting on me? Where was this three weeks ago?”

Clarke crawled towards Lexa, settling between the other woman’s legs. She looked her arms around the other woman’s neck, carding her finger through the fine hairs at the nape of Lexa’s neck. “Three weeks ago,” she husked. “Three weeks ago I felt like you had me cornered and I couldn’t escape.” She leaned in to kiss Lexa, pulling back at the last second, pleased to see the other woman’s body naturally arch forward to follow her.

Realizing a kiss wasn’t going to happen, Lexa settled for nibbling across Clarke’s chest leaving small bites in her wake. “And now?” She asked. “Do you still feel trapped?”

Clarke leaned her head back, allowing the woman more access. She sighed, “I don’t. In fact, I feel free.”

Lexa paused her ministrations, leaning back. “Free? How so? I feel the opposite. I feel like you’ve taken ahold of me, dug in so deep that I’m not sure I could separate you from myself if I wanted to.”

“Do you want to?”

Lexa considered and then exhaled, “No.” She said firmly. “No, I don’t think I do. Isn’t that funny?”

Clarke brought their lips together briefly, “I don’t think it’s funny at all.”

Lexa leaned in to finish their kiss and maybe start something more, but found herself alone in the bed as Clarke rolled off of her. She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest and tried not to laugh when a shirt hit her in the face. 

Clarke poked her head around the bathroom door, “move your cute ass, Lexa. I want pancakes before our Quickfire today. And if you hurry, I just might let you feel me up in the bathroom.”

Lexa had never jumped out of bed so quickly in her entire life.

XX

“I don’t like it when they stand over there and talk like that,” said Raven from her seat atop one of the Top Chef Kitchen workstations. The entire group was watching Tom, Padma, Gail, and what looked to be several Producers in fancy suits talking quietly but excitedly off to the side of the competition area.

“Ugh. This is the worst,” Octavia moaned, leaning heavily into Lincoln’s side. “I can’t take this. It’s been hours!”

Clarke rolled her eyes, “It’s literally been fifteen minutes, O. Try to keep it together.”

She narrowed her eyes at Clarke, “And why are you so calm, Ms. Griffin? Usually you’re the first person to try and snoop. What has you so relaxed?”

Pushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear, she shrugged. “I couldn’t really say. Maybe a good night of sleep really is a cure for everything.”

“Sure, Clarke, whatever you say,” chuckled Octavia, sharing a knowing look with Raven.

“What?” Asked Clarke.

Raven grinned widely, “Octavia is probably referring to the rather vocal performance you put on this morning.”

“What?” Clarke gasped.

“God, Lexa! Don’t stop, Lexa! Please!” Octavia moaned.

Clarke could feel her face turning a bright shade of red. “So you heard that?” She mumbled.

Raven rolled her eyes, “Clarke, half of Houston heard you.” 

“I’ll say this though,” Octavia chimes in. “The Commander must have mad skills. I’ve lived with Clarke for years and I’ve never heard her like that.”

“I’m not sure if I’m supposed to be pleased for all of the great sex she’s having now, or if I should feel bad for past Clarke for all of the bad sex she had to endure,” joked Raven.

Octavia laughed, “You should definitely feel bad for past Clarke. What was the name of that guy that just laid there like a dead fish and made you do all of the work? I swear, six months of that and Clarke decided that no man or woman was worth giving up an orgasm over.”

Clarke covered her face, mortified beyond belief. 

Raven shoved her playfully on the shoulder, “Come on, Clarke. We didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. Truth be told, I dated a guy like that for years. Last dude I dated before meeting Anya in fact. We’d been going out for almost two years and then I see him out with some blonde bimbo in town and that was it.” Raven looked over to where the Woods cousins were deep in conversation. She smiled, “I’m glad he was such a douche nugget though. Who knows, if he’d been halfway decent as a boyfriend and even slightly above average in bed, there might be a bunch of little Ravens flicking around by now.”

“The horror,” mocked Octavia. “Seriously though, Clarke, what was that guy’s name? Come on! You know who I’m talking about. The one with the floppy hair. I think he had a fish name of some kind, but I’m pretty sure you never dated anyone named Trout.”

Clarke sighed, she knew Octavia wasn’t going to let this go. “Finn,” she mumbled. “Fish guy’s name was Finn.”

Raven’s eyes bugged out of her head, “What?! His name was Finn? Tell me that fish guy isn’t Finn Collins!”

Clarke quirked her head, “It was, actually. Wait? How do you know Finn.”

Octavia rubbed her hands together in glee. “I have got such a good feeling about where this conversation is heading,” She crowed. “Yes, dear Raven. How do you know one, Finn Collins?”

“That’s the guy.” At Clarke and Octavia’s confused looks, Raven continued. “He’s the guy that cheated on me.”

“Get out!” Said Octavia.

“I’m dead serious! That’s the dude that was out with the blonde when I caught him. Wait,” her head whipped towards Clarke. “Did he ever take you to that taco place in the Mission?”

“Which one?”

Raven waved her hand in the air, “Fuck if I know what it’s called. The one with that cactus dude wearing the sombrero. It has the-“

Clarke gasped, “Mustache!” She finished. “The cactus has a mustache.”

Raven snapped her fingers together, “That’s the one!”

“Oh my god,” said Clarke. “You don’t think?”

Raven nodded, “And you have a blue dress with pink flowers on it.”

Octavia clapped her hands together in glee, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Clarke! Oh my god. I love this! I love this so much, you really have no idea. My whole life has been leading to this moment.”

It was then that the Woods cousins turned back to the rest of the group. “Your life has been leading to what moment?” Lincoln asked fondly.

Octavia grinned, pointing across the table. “Clarke’s the bimbo!”

XX

The contestants didn’t have to wait much longer after Octavia’s triumphant declaration to find out what was going on from the producers.

Tom coughed, “So, it would appear that Emori and Murphy quitting together caused a bit of problem with production.”

Gail nodded, “Today was supposed to be another sudden death Quickfire, but since two people went home yesterday…”

“You get a reprieve,” finished Padma.

“So instead of doing a Quickfire, we’re going to jump right into the main challenge,” said Gail.

Tom gestures to the contestants and the Producers waiting in the wings, “Everyone ok with that?”

The chefs all looked at each other, nodding. “Yes, chef,” said Raven. “I think we’re all fine hanging out for a few more days.”

Padma grinned. “I was hoping you would say that.”

“Well, that’s my cue to leave,” said Gail. “I’ll see you all at the elimination challenge. Have fun today!”

Everyone watched Gail leave the kitchen, dragging the Producers behind her. Once it was just Tom, Padma, and the regular camera crew in the kitchen with the chefs, Tom began to describe the elimination challenge. “Chefs, Houston is home to a wide variety of people with a wide variety of interests. People of all ages live in this city and are all looking for a way to spend their time.”

“As a mother,” said Padma, “I can’t begin to tell you how hard it is to find a place that’s entertaining for both kids and adults.”

“Traditionally, I’d say that alcohol and kids don’t mix, but they do in Houston. B-52 Brewing in the northern suburb of Conroe has created both a family friendly environment and an excellent event venue.

“And don’t forget about the beer, Tom” teased Padma.

Tom jokingly rolled his eyes. “Yes, dear. Seriously though, chefs. The beer is pretty great too.”

“Your challenge tomorrow is to create a dish that pairs well with one of the frosty beverages on the B-52 menu,” said Padma.

Tom nodded, “And keep in mind that there are going to be kids of all ages there. You’ll need to serve something easy to eat, that holds up to the scorching Texas sun, and that’s a real crowd pleaser.”

“You’ll also probably want to hydrate this evening,” advised Padma. “It’s supposed to be almost 100 degrees tomorrow.”

“Why did we come to Texas again?” Joked Tom.

Padma sighed, “Because we are gluttons for punishment and we love good food.”

Tom turned back to the chefs, “in the Top Chef cooler, you’ll find all of the beverages that B-52 makes. You’re free to take these back to the Top Chef House and try them out. Tomorrow you’ll go shopping at Whole Foods.”

“Don’t stay up too late this evening,” warned Padma. “We’ll be sending you all shopping at 8am and you’ll be serving close to 200 guests at 4pm. After a long day of drinking beer and hanging out under the Texas sun, I imagine people are going to be plenty hungry.”

“Ok, chefs,” said Tom. “Time to get cracking. See you tomorrow morning!”


	24. Episode 8: Something’s Brewing (Back at the Top Chef House)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chefs spend an evening by the pool and Clarke and Lexa discuss the future.
> 
> Literally the fluffiest thing I’ve ever written, but the end of the chapter is my absolute fave.

Lexa slipped into the pool and let out a deep sigh of contentment, the day’s stress seeping out of her pores and into the cool, crystal clear water. They’d arrived back at the Top Chef House over an hour ago, but she was just now finding her way to the pool. 

The other chefs were already there, happily chirping away and discussing the various beers they’d brought back in their cooler. Apparently B-52 had quite the spread. She rested her head against the lip of the pool,closing her eyes, careful to not let the tendrils of hair piled on top of her head slip in.

The was allowed a few minutes leave before she felt a ripple next to her. She didn’t open her eyes, she knew who it was. “Anya, do you intend to tread water all evening, or are you going to say what’s on you mind?”

She heard Anya huff and imagined that the disturbance she heard in the water was the other chef crossing her arms in frustration. “How do you always know it’s me? How could you possibly know it wasn’t Lincoln, or Clarke even?”

Lexa opened her eyes, smirking. “Because you breath so loudly I can hear you coming,” Lexa teased.

Anya covered her nose in mock horror, “I cannot believe you would be so cruel. You know I have a deviated septum!”

Lexa laughed, and saw Clarke turn towards her, smile lighting up her face. God, Lexa could look at her forever. She turned back to Anya, “Seriously though, Anya, when are finally going to get that big fixed? You’re on the verge of becoming a full blown mouth breather and I can tell you that your snoring has in now way improved over the years.”

Anya splashes her playfully.

“Hey! Watch the hair,” Lexa yelled good naturedly.

Anya splashes her again, but smaller this time. “This,” She said, pointing at her nose. “This is your fault, Heda. You know it and I know it. I’m simply allowing you the opportunity to restore your honor by restoring my ability to breathe.”

Lexa rolled her eyes at the familiar accusation. “How many times have I told you that I’m sorry? I turned around and you were just there! I can’t help it if you caught an elbow to the face in a busy kitchen. You should have called out anyway.”

“I did!”

Lexa laughed, “No, you didn’t, and I have proof.”

“Oh, yeah? What? What proof could you possibly have?”

“Lincoln!” Lexa called out. The tall man looked up from where he had Octavia trapped in a corner. From the quiet blush spread across Octavia’s collarbone and her bruised lips, Lexa didn’t think Octavia minded being cornered. 

“Yes, Heda?” He called back, turning towards them, Octavia choosing to snuggle into his back, head resting on his shoulder.

Lexa pointed at Anya’s nose. “You were there the night of the incident?”

Lincoln rolled his eyes, “Please, not this again.”

“There was an incident?” Said Clarke from just across the pool where she was floating with Raven.

Raven laughed, “With these three, there’s always an incident of some sort. It’s very low key but very high drama. The Woods cousins are a bunch of dramatic little beans.”

“Are not!” The cousins yelled in unison.

Raven made a sweeping motion with her hand. “I rest my case.”

Clarke laughed.

“Lincoln, you may proceed,” Raven mocked. “To what incident are the Woods women referring?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he grumbled. “It was ten years ago. Can’t we let this go already?”

“No we cannot!” Declared Anya. “Because my nose is still broken and Lexa still refuses to fix it.”

Lexa laughed, “I’m not paying for your stupidity, Anya. You have insurance, good insurance actually. Pay for it yourself.”

Anya huffed, “Blood must have blood, Heda. You know this.”

“And why must I bleed in cash?”

Anya slapped the water, “Because it’s the only fair solution other than to hit you in the face!”

Lexa rolled her eyes, “If it will finally get you to shut up then fine! Do what you must.”

Anya blinked, “What?”

Lexa stood up in the water, crossing her arms. “I mean it, Anya. Take a whack at me if you need to, but I don’t think you will.”

Anya’s eyes narrowed, “You don’t mean it.”

Lexa lifted her chin, “I most certainly do.”

“Ummm, ladies,” said Raven. “Could we maybe not ruin the evening by getting blood in the pool?”

“Yeah,” Clarke agreed. “Surely there’s got to be another way? What was the proof you had, Lexa?” 

Lexa shook her head, “Not right now, Clarke.” She stared at Anya. “Go ahead, hit me. I dare you.”

“Ugh!” Said Anya, throwing her hand up in defeat. “You know I’m not going to hit you over a stupid accident.” She came over, resting her back against the lip of the pool next to Lexa.

Lexa smirked. “That’s what I thought,” she said smugly.

Anya scowled, sweeping her foot out, knocking Lexa off balance. Lexa barely had a moment to react before strong arms picked her up under her armpits.

“Vengeance is mine!” Cackled Anya, and then Lexa was unceremoniously dunked into the pool. 

She shot up, sputtering water, hair plastered down the front of her face. “Anya!” She yelled, stalking towards the retreating woman. “You come back here!”

Anya laughed, shaking her head as she pushed Lincoln’s large form between her and a soaked commander. “No thanks! I think we’re even know though. God! You look dreadful!” She laughed. “You should see your eyes.”

Lexa looked down into the water, taking in her appearance. Long streaks of mascara ran down her face, providing a truly terrifying mask. She narrowed her eyes, looking up at her cousin. “I’m going to get you for this, Anya. You just wait.”

XX

Clarke found Lexa later upstairs in their room, toweling off her hair. “Hey,” She said, slipping up behind the other woman to wrap her arms around her middle. She laid a kiss on the side of Lexa’s neck, breathing in her warmth and the subtle hint of vanilla from her conditioner.

Lexa leaned back into her touch. “Hey yourself.” She turned in Clarke’s arms, looping her hands around the back of Clarke’s neck, fingers playing with the slightly damp curls at the nape of her neck. Clarke smelled like chlorine and the hot summer air. The scent was nearly intoxicating.

“You snuck away early,” Clarke murmured.

Lexa nodded, “I had some things to think about.”

Clarke hummed, “About the challenge?”

Lexa sighed, letting her arms drop away, and sitting on the edge of the bed. She patted the emptiness next to her.

Clarke sat, taking Lexa’s hands in hers, turning them palm up to trace idle patterns across her skin. “Want to talk about it?”

Lexa brought Clarke’s hand up to her mouth, kissing it sweetly. “Yes, but it’s not what you think.”

Clarke’s brow lifted, “It isn’t?”

Lexa shook her head. She gestured to the bed. “Can we lay down?” She asked softly. “I want to tell you, but I don’t think I can look at you while I do this.”

Clarke nodded, concern etched across her features. “Sure, Lexa. Whatever you need.”

They settled into the bed, Lexa propped against the wall with Clarke laying across her, tangled into her. They lay there for a moment just like that, breathing each other in, dropping light caresses on smooth skin and watching the sun start to dip down across the horizon.

Lexa spoke first. “I’m scared of the challenge tomorrow.”

Clarke leaned back, looking up at Lexa who wouldn’t meet her eyes. She stroked Lexa’s tense jaw, willing her to look at her. When she did, Clarke saw Lexa’s eyes heavy with unshed tears. She sat up, curling into Lexa’s side, offering her warmth as comfort. “Is it because of the alcohol? Because I’m here, Lexa. We’re all here. If you need help with the pairings, we can help. We want to help.”

Lexa laughed wetly, kissing the top of Clarke’s head. “Thank you for that,” she shuddered out a breath. “Strangely, I feel fine about that part of the challenge. I know that I have you all to support me, so I don’t feel tempted or weak. I feel,” she paused, shrugging. “I just feel like me, I guess. Like Lexa.”

Clarke smiled softly, “That’s great news then. But it begs the question… why are you upset?”

Lexa frowned, and Clarke felt the other woman absentmindedly begin to trace patterns on her exposed stomach. She curled into the touch, seeking more to comfort herself and the other woman.

“It’s–,” Lexa started. “It’s going to be different after tomorrow.”

“How?”

Lexa sighed deeply, “Because someone will go home.”

Clarke chuckled, “Lexa, someone has been going home almost every other day for weeks now.”

Lexa shook her head. “No, Clarke. Beja, please listen.” Lexa paused, drawing in a stabilizing breath. “Tomorrow someone I love will go home or someone they love will go. Tomorrow is the beginning of the inevitable end.”

“Well, that’s bleak.” Clarke untangled herself from Lexa’s arms, rising to sit across the woman’s legs facing her. She studied Lexa’s features, the shadows under her eyes, the grim set of her mouth, her too wet eyes. “Why is this only occurring to you now?”

Lexa shrugged, halfheartedly throwing her hands in the air, “I don’t know, Clarke.” She said, tear beginning to fall down her face. “I really don’t, but I came upstairs and realized that one of us would be gone tomorrow and I can’t stop it.”

“Do you want to stop it?”

Lexa looked at Clarke, fire burning behind her eyes still shedding tears. “More than anything,” she said resolutely.

Clarke nodded, “Then that’s enough.”

Lexa rolled her eyes, wiping away stray tears. “How? How is that enough, Clarke?” How are you so ok with all of this.”

Clarke sighed, leaning in to rest her forehead on Lexa’s. “Because I know what it’s like to actually lose someone, and so do you, Lexa. Whoever is eliminated tomorrow isn’t dying. We’ll see them again.”

“I just don’t want to think about anyone going home.”

“Really?” Asked Clarke. “Because I think about it all the time.”

Lexa laughed wetly, “Oh, yeah? What do it think about?”

Clarke leaned back, smiling down at Lexa. “I think about what happens next.”

Lexa smiled, pulling Clarke back down and into her arms, snuggling into the other woman. “Tell me, Clarke,” she breathed. “Tell me what happens next.

Clarke hums, “The first thing I see is Murphy and Emori and their new baby. They’ve come for a visit. I’m hoping they’ll decide to settle down in the Bay Area so that I can see them more. Murphy’s a great dad and Emori lets him think that he’s tougher than he is, but they both know the truth.”

“Sounds nice.”

Clarke nods, “It is,” She exhales deeply. “And I see Bellamy flirting with Echo on a beach somewhere. He’ll leave me behind to run the restaurant and I’ll pretend to be offended so that he’ll agree to do the chores I hate for a month.”

Clarke felt Lexa chuckle underneath her as she continued, “And I see Raven and Anya. I haven’t decided if I see them in Houston or in San Francisco, but I see them together. They’re happy driving each other insane over things like organic vegetables and liquid nitrogen, but it suits them. Raven’s got a ring on her finger, so I guess that means Anya proposed.”

Lexa laughed, “Anya has a ring, you know.”

“What?” Clarke gasped. “For how long?”

Lexa shrugged, “Since forever. It was her mother’s ring. She used to keep it out on the dresser at our place and talk about the day she’d find the right woman to give it to.” Lexa sighed. “She put it away when Raven left for Texas, but maybe your vision will come true. Maybe she’ll get it back out.”

“I hope so,” whispered Clarke. “And Octavia–,” she began. “Good grief. Octavia becomes more your problem than mine I suppose.”

Lexa laughed, “How so?” 

Clarke rolled her eyes, “It starts out with her driving to Napa every weekend, and then she starts picking up shifts at Grounders a few nights a week so she can be close to Lincoln. Then one day she comes into our apartment bawling her eyes out about how she’s going to leave me and how she feels bad abandoning me. And I’ll laugh and tell her not to be a moron, and that Lincoln is easily the best guy she’s ever dated. And then they’ll become one of those couples that does everything thing together. It’ll be gross, but also kind of awesome.”

Clarke quieted, listening to Lexa breath, pretending not to notice the way her heart picked up when Lexa quietly asked, “And what about us, Clarke?”

“What about us, Lexa?” She returned.

Lexa curled her arms tighter around Clarke, “Where are we at the end of this? What are we doing? With Octavia and Bellamy gone, you’ll be lonely at the restaurant by yourself.”

Clarke shrugged, “It’s fine.” She said. “I’ll be fine. I’m used to being on my own.”

Lexa sighed, placing her hand gently beneath the other woman’s chin, pleading for eye contact. Clarke searched her eyes and couldn’t decide what she saw in those green depths. Fear? Hope? Longing? A mix of the three? 

Lexa licked her sun chapped lips. “Tell me, Clarke. What do you see?”

“I– I don’t know,” she said and watched the hurt flash across Lexa’s face. “Lexa,” She said, “I can’t know right now.”

Lexa nodded in understanding, but the tears were back in her eyes, making Clarke’s heart clench. “Please,” She said. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Lexa shook her head, “No, Clarke. It’s ok. Truly. It wasn’t that.”

“Then what was it?”

Lexa looked down at her, smiling. “I saw us.”

“You did?”

“Yes.”

Clarke chuckled, “But I thought you were dreading going home.”

Lexa laughed, “Oh, I am. But I guess-,” she stammered. “I guess that, if I can get what I have in mind, that it’s ok to go home. I want to go home.”

Clarke’s eyes raked Lexa’s face. “And what’s at home, Lexa?” She almost whispered into the quiet room.

Lexa looked at her, really looked at her. She reached down, twining their fingers together. She leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes, bringing their joined hands up to her chest just over her heart. “I see a kitchen.”

“A kitchen? You get to the end of this and all you see is a kitchen?”

Lexa cracked open a disproving eye, “This is my dream now, Clarke. Do not mock me.”

Clarke huffed, “Fine.”

“Good,” and Lexa closed her eyes again. “Like I said, I see a kitchen. A big open space with lots of light. There’s a wood burning oven in the back and Lincoln is standing across from me chopping. He’s wearing a ring.”

“Octavia?”

Lexa smiles, nodding, “Yes. And she’s there too arguing with Raven about something trivial while Anya looks on fondly.”

“Raven and Anya are there too?”

“Quiet, Clarke. Let me finish. We finish cooking and load up the plates, making our way to the dining room. There’s rich woods and splashes of color. It’s not Grounders. It’s a new restaurant. I think– I think I own it. We begin setting the table. We’re laughing and opening bottles of wine, just enjoying the night, and the door opens. I look up and there’s Murphy and Emori with their little one. They look happy, tired but happy. And then you walk in.”

Lexa pauses, swallowing thickly, “You walk in and I can feel my heart catch in my chest. It’s been a few years since the competition because you’ve got a few new laugh lines and your hair is shorter than it is now.” Lexa cracks open an eye, “You look good with short hair, by the way.”

Clarke laughs, “Good to know. What happens next?”

Lexa smiles, staring into Clarke’s eyes, “And then we sit down. You sit by my side, and we begin to serve up. It’s loud and a little chaotic, but it’s the most at home I’ve felt in a long time. And then I feel your hand slip into mine,” she brings their joined hands up to gently kiss Clarke’s knuckles. “I feel your hand slip into mine and I know.”

Clarke leans in, “What do you know, Lexa?” Her heart beating wildly in her chest. She searches Lexa’s face for the answer. “What do you know?”

Lexa leans in, kissing Clarke softly, not giving Clarke and answer. When they break apart, Lexa looks at her and says, “I know why I wasn’t afraid to go home anymore.”


	25. Episode 8: Something's Brewing (The Challenge)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chefs compete in the "Something's Brewing" challenge. Another chef goes home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised in the last chapter, a picture of the brewery is below so that you can get a feel for the area.

B-52 as it turned out was nothing like Lexa had imagined. In her mind, the brewery would be in some kind of airplane hanger. They’d pile into makeshift kitchens and then get to cooking. She thought they’d basically be cooked alive inside a metal can.

Instead, the brewery was nestled into a grove of pine trees. A large, covered deck served as the tap room, and a wide variety of people wandered the grounds taking part in cheery conversation, playing lawn games, and genuinely just having a good time.

Padma has been right though, it was a scorcher outside. Each of the chefs was covered by a small, white tent, but the combination of heat and humidity was brutal. If this event had been anything other than a serious elimination challenge, she would have seriously considered stripping down to just her underwear to cook, pride be damned. 

Lexa chuckled to herself, turning her protein over in her cast iron skillet. She’d found some great wild boar at Whole Foods. After marinating it for most of the afternoon, she was finishing it off with a hard sear and a few minutes in her tiny oven. She was going to serve the dish with a wild blackberry gastrique that she knew was a winner. She went back to tending to her meat, content with how things were going for once.

“Got a second?” Lincoln asked from behind her. 

Lexa jumped a bit, startled at not being alone with her thoughts. Her hand caught the edge of the skillet and she yelped, “Shit! Shit! Shit,” shaking her hand. Damn, she hated burning herself in the kitchen.

Lincoln winced, reaching for her injured hand, holding it tenderly in his. “Sorry, Lexa. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said calmly. “How bad is it on a scale from 1 to fryer explosion?”

Lexa chuckled through a grimace. During one of their first months in the restaurant, Lexa and Lincoln had decided to make churros. What had started out as a fun, silly way to spend the evening, turned into pretty much a disaster when a batch exploded all over them. Both had burns on their faces, necks, arms, and almost any body part not covered by clothing. They’d both suffered together while Anya chastised them for their stupidity and had spent months helping the other cover each burn with balm until the burn marks eventually went away.

“It’s not that bad, Linc. I promise,” she said.

Lincoln exhaled with relief. “Ok,” he said, patting Lexa on the shoulder. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

Lexa rolled her eyes at his retreating form, “As if I have anywhere else to go,” she said to the empty tent.

Lincoln returned moments later with something green in his hand. Lexa squinted, “What do you have there?”

Lincoln grinned. “Aloe Vera,” he waved proudly. “I saw some over by the tap room. I’m sure they won’t mind me stealing a bit for a good cause. Give me your hand.”

Lincoln rubbed the snapped off end of the plant across the burn and Lexa sighed. “You really do have a way, Lincoln.”

He smiled, “Thank you, Heda.”

She bumped his shoulder affectionately with her own. “I mean it. Anya and I have always been a bit of a mess, but you’ve always been there for us, steady and true. Calming us, encouraging us,” Lexa wiggled her fingers. “Even healing us at times.”

Lincoln blushed, “I do not care for you both out of duty, Lexa. It is my honor to be your cousin and brother in arms, though there are few battles left for us to fight. I’m here with you now and by your side, always, because I love you. You cannot pick your family, but I would pick you and Anya any day.”

Lexa raised her brow, “Really? I think I might leave Anya off the roster in the next draft pick.”

Lincoln rolled his eyes good naturedly, as he prepared to leave. “Sure. Whatever you say. But we both know we need her in this particular fight,” he said, gesturing to the event going on around them. “I wouldn’t want to wage this war without her.”

“Together till the end?”

Lincoln nodded, “Sha, Heda. Together until the end.” He started back to his tent.

“Linc,” Lexa called out.

The broad shouldered chef turned, “Yes?”

Lexa leaned out of her tent, covering her eyes to fend of the bright Texas sun. “What did you need when you came over here?”

He laughed, waving her off. “I just came over to steal a bottle of water from you. It’s fine. I’ll just grab one from Octavia.”

XX

Clarke hummed as she prepped her workstation. Wiping her hands on her towel, she surveyed her handy work. Her table looked good. She’d opted for a Sangria Saison, which held strong citrus notes and a strong red wine flavor, to compose her dish. She took a swig out of an open bottle. It tasted pretty great too. Clarke wondered if they shipped this stuff to Cali.

She turned back to her grill and smiled at the odd sight. She’d decided on an old Griffin family favorite, beer butt chicken. She’d bought about a dozen whole chickens at the grocery store, mixed up a spice blend that she knew was killer, and shoved an open can of the Saison up its rear. Now she just had to make sure it cooked evenly. It wasn’t necessarily a classy, fine dining dish, but it was sassy, and Clarke felt like it fit the mood of the brewery.

Clarke stretched her shoulders, releasing some of the tension from earlier in the day. She was stressed about the challenge, but being out in the woods, with some surprisingly good live bluegrass music playing softly in the background, had put her in a great mood. She was calm, she was relaxed, she was-

“On fire!” she yelled, noticing a stray dish towel going up in flames. She was stomping the offending towel out with her foot with marginal success when Lincoln trotted over laughing quietly. 

He poured the water in his bottle out, extinguishing the last of the deceased towel. “Easy there, Griffin,” he teased. “Wouldn’t want to have to call Smokey the Bear on you.”

Clarke batted her eyes and leaned up to give him a loud smack on the cheek. “My hero,” she declared.

Lincoln laughed, “Just doing my part to put out forest fires, ma’am.” Lincoln gave her a mock salute and headed back to his tent, smile on his face.

Clarke shook her head, laughing and looked up to see Octavia with her hands on her hips. “What?” Clarke shrugged.

Octavia picked up a pair of tongs, snapping them at Clarke, “Stop flirting with my guy!”

Clarke laughed, “Afraid of a little competition, O?”

Octavia crossed her arms and huffed, “No! We both know I could take you in a fair fight. But keep your lips off of him. You want to kiss someone, go make out with the Commander.”

“O, is this jealousy I’m hearing in your voice?” Clarke teased.

Octavia’s mouth opened in shock. “Me? Jealous? What? No.” She sputtered. “I’m Octavia Blake. I don’t get jealous.”

Clarke laughed, “That may have been true before, O, but your body language is telling a different story.”

Octavia looked down at her crossed arms and sighed, “I just really like him, ok?”

“I get it, O. I really like him too.”

“Not as much as I like him, Clarke. Like I really, really, really like him. Like… a lot,” she admitted.

Clarke nodded at her friend. “I know that, O. That was one more ‘really’ than I was expecting, but I understand,” she said, looking across the venue at Lexa.

Octavia groaned, “God, we’re both so stupid! Why would we do this to ourselves in the middle of a competition?”

Clarke laughed, shaking her head. “I can’t say, O. But I’d do it again. How about you?”

Octavia looked over to where Lincoln delicately plated his dish ever so precisely. She turned back to Clarke, grinning widely. “Definitely.”

XX

In the middle of service, Lexa decided two things. The first was that Houstonians were crazy. Hundreds of sweat covered adults and kids had swarmed upon B-52 despite the heat. Lexa couldn’t tell if they were just all tough from years of this insane heat, or if they were all suffering from some sort of shared head injury. God it was hot! She’d sweated through her chef coat hours ago and had finally decided to just toss the offending garment off rather than risk her sweat rolling off of the coat and onto her dish.

The other thing Lexa had decided was that her dish was a hit. People kept coming back for her wild boar and her drink pairing was a smash too. She’d opted for a non-alcoholic fizzy lemonade. She’d added ice, a few diced strawberries, whole blueberries, and some raspberries to the drink. Then she’d lined the rim of the glass very lightly with sugar. Most of the children present were just licking the sugar off of the rim of the glass, but the adults really seemed to be enjoying the frosty beverage.

They were about halfway through service when Lexa heard something crash in one of the booths next to hers. She was in the middle of slicing a piece of wild boar, so she didn’t look up until she heard Anya yell, “It’s Lincoln.”

Lexa’s head jerked up from what she was doing and she sliced the side of her already burned hand. “Mother freaking fuck!” She yelled, pressing a cloth to the wound. She looked over to see a set of parents and their two kids staring at her with wide eyes. 

Lexa looked at them sheepishly, backing out of the tent. “I’m so sorry you had to hear that,” she apologized. “Umm- help yourself to some food. I’m going to go see the medic,” she said, waving her injured hand in the air.

She rushed out of her tent and jogged over to Lincoln’s tent where the other chefs and the medics were gathered. “What happened,” she asked coming to a stop next to Raven.

Raven looked over her shoulder, keeping an eye on Lincoln as he drank some water from a cup Octavia held to his lips. He looked ashen. “He passed out.” She said.

“What? Why? How?”

“They think from dehydration. He was fine one minute and then he got dizzy and just blacked out.” Raven spared her a closer look. “Dude,” She said pointing at Lexa. “Did you know you’re bleeding?”

Lexa looked down, realizing that she’d taken the cloth off of her hand at some point. I tiny trickle of blood was rolling down her arm onto the ground. She waved off Raven’s concern. “It’s no big deal,” she said, pressing the cloth back over the cut. “I’ll have the medics take a look at it just as soon as they’re done with Lincoln.” 

Raven nodded, “Ok. I just hope he can finish the challenge. It would suck to get sent home over a technicality at this point.”

Lexa turned, fully facing the other chef. “Raven,” She asked seriously, “What exactly do you mean by ‘going home over a technicality?’ Lincoln didn’t sit out. He didn’t forfeit or quit.”

Raven shrugged, jerking a thumb towards the judges. “I overheard the suits talking to Chef Tom. If 200 plates don’t get done, that’s it. Lincoln’s out.”

Lexa scowled. “You cannot be serious,” she ground out. “The man just passed out. How is he supposed to plate more dishes?”

“Whoa there, Commander,” Raven held up her hands. “Don’t kill the messenger.”

Lexa looked over at the judges, her brown drawn. “I’ll be back,” she said, stomping over to the suits.

The suits and Tom were talking quietly when Lexa stormed over. “You can’t send Lincoln home over this,” she interrupted their conversation.

“Lexa,” said Tom. “We may not have a choice. If he can’t complete the challenge, he’ll be automatically eliminated.”

Lexa ground her teeth together, “That’s not fair and you know it.”

Padma sighed deeply, “Lexa, we’d prefer not to send Lincoln home this way either, but rules are rules.”

“Damn your rules!” Lexa yelled, causing the suits to take a step back. 

“What if we help him?” Said Clarke, jogging up to stand beside Lexa. “Hey,” She whispered to Lexa. “Sorry for butting in, but it looked like you could use some help.”

Lexa nodded.

Clarke turned back to the judges. “The rules of this challenge say that he has to have a dish that pairs well with a B-52 beer, and that he has to have at least 200 servings, right?”

Tom nodded, “That’s the gist of it, yeah.”

“Then what if the other chefs agreed to help cook his last few plates? How many is he off by?”

“Clarke,” said Lexa. “You don’t have to do this.”

Clarke frowned in confusion. “I know that, Lexa. I want to do it. It’s Lincoln.” 

Lexa turned back to Tom, “So, how many? How many more dishes would we need to plate before he hits 200?”

“Just a moment,” said Tom, pulling one of the suits aside. 

Lexa reaches for Clarke’s hand, holding it tightly in hers while they waited for Tom to return. They didn’t speak to each other. They simply waited.

After a few minutes of what looked to be rather heated discussion, Tom came back. “You’re sure you want to do this?”

Clarke and Lexa nodded quickly.

“Ok,” continued Tom. “Here are the ground rules. Lincoln still needs to plate 50 dishes.”

Clarke gasped.

Tom shrugged, “I know it’s a lot, but that’s what these guys came up with,” he pointed at the suits. “And you each need to finish your own dishes before you can work on his.”

“What?,” said Lexa. “Come on! We should be able to help him regardless of how far along we are.”

Tom looked at the man he’d previously talked to. The man just shrugged. “Those are the rules,” Said Tom. “Take ‘em or leave ‘em.”

Lexa held out her hand, cloth stil squeezed to the bottom to stop the blood from flowing freely. “I’ll take it,” she said, clasping Tom’s hand in her own.

Tom smiled, eyes lighting up. “I’d hoped you would say that. Now you two need to get out of here and get back to work. You’ve got a lot of cooking to do and not a lot of time to do it in.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you sir,” said Clarke, pulling Lexa away and back towards the competition.

“And Lexa?” Said Tom.

“Yes, chef?”

Tom pointed at her injured hand, “Please get that hand taken care of. It’s kind of unsanitary.

Lexa laughed, giving Tom a mock salute. “Yes, chef. Right away.”

XX

Clarke wiped her brow tiredly. She’d just finished playing her last dish for the day and could finally help out at Lincoln’s station. She looked over to the other side of the competition and saw that Lexa was busy at work already, but seemed to be staring at the competition clock.

Clarke looked over. They only had twenty minutes of competition left. “Fuck,” Clarke mumbled as she jogged over to the tent. She stepped up next to Lexa, lightly placing her palm on the other woman’s back. “How can I help?”

Lexa turned and Clarke saw the panic in her eyes. “Clarke! Thank God you’re here. I lost count of how many plates have gone out. I think we only need fifteen more, but it could be twenty, and we o my have,” she looked at the clock. “Damn we have less than half an hour. I don’t think we’re going to make it.”

Clarke readjusted her hair, piling it high atop her head. She looked at the ingredients on the workstation and rolled up her sleeves. “We’re just going to have to make it work. Twenty dishes it is.”

“Clarke,” Lexa said frantically. “There’s just not enough time, I don’t think- and Lincoln.” Her breakdown was halted by warm lips crashing into hers. Lexa gasped and then pulled back, blinking owlishly. “What was that for?”

Clarke shrugged, “You’re kind of cute when you ramble. Now, are you done, or do I need to send you to a corner somewhere for a full meltdown?”

Lexa straightened her shoulders, “Let’s get to it.”

Clarke nodded, “Lead the way, Commander. I’m right behind you.”

XX

Lexa taught Clarke the base of Lincoln’s dish. She’d had to throw out a wine reduction he’d been working on when he passed out. Lexa had tried to save it, but the sauce was really just too salty on her tongue. 

Clarke had picked up the components of the dish quickly and was playing components just as fast as Lexa could get them to her. “Four more, Lexa.” She called out.

Lexa scowled down at the cut of meat that seemed to refuse to cook on principle. “How much time left?” She said.

Clarke didn’t look up from her plating. “Let me worry about the clock, Commander. You just get that damned meat cooked!”

Lexa laughed despite the dire circumstances. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

Clarke whacked her with a towel. “That’s Wanheda to you, Commander and don’t you forget it.”

Lexa laughed again, shaking her head in amusement. Even in the most dire of situations, Clarke had still managed to put her at ease. “You know,” she called over her shoulder, eyes never leaving her work. “This is the first time we’ve really gotten to cook together in the competition. I was a little out of it last time.”

Clarke chuckled, “I suppose you’re right. How do you think it’s going so far?”

Lexa thought about it for a moment. “Honestly? I thought you’d be bossier.”

“Hey!” Clarke exclaimed.

Lexa smiled fondly, shrugging. “It’s true,” she said. “I thought you might take charge and try to order me around and instead…”

“Instead what?”

Lexa shook her head. “It’s nothing.”

“Oh, come on! Tell me,” Clarke whines playfully. 

Lexa sighed, “It’s like we’re both guiding each other I guess. Like neither of us is the leader, but neither of us is the follower either. I don’t know if that makes any sense.”

Clarke hummed quietly, quickly adding a splash of color to the plates with a brush of the sauce. “No, I get it,” she agreed. Lexa saw Clarke look up to take a look at the clock from the corner of her eye. “How much more time do you think you need, Lexa?”

Lexa turned the meat over in the pan, “As much time as you can give me. Why?”

“Well, I don’t want to freak you out but we’re down to two minutes.”

“What?!” Lexa said, jerking her head up to stare at the evil clock. Sure enough, time had dipped below two minutes. “Clarke, the meat won’t have time to rest. It’s going to lose all of its juices and dry out on the plate.”

“I know. I know!” Said Clarke in frustration. “But we also can’t serve raw meat either can we?”

Lexa scowled. “I hate this.”

She heard the twinkle of Clarke’s laughter from behind her. “Please, you love it.”

Lexa smiled fondly, “I guess I kind of do.” Lexa checked the meat, satisfied that it had finally come up to temperature. “Ready to plate?”

Clarke nodded and Lexa slid the meat out of the pan and onto the cutting board. She watched as Clarke’s skewered the meat with tongs and cut it quickly into four perfect portions. 

“Hurry, Clarke,” Lexa whispered. “Thirty seconds.”

“I’m going as fast as I can, Lexa” Clarke huffed, placing the first pieces of meat on the last four plates. “Sauce begins me?”

Lexa nodded, snagging the saucepan off of the burner and adding a few drops along the edges of each dish and across the meat itself. She was adding the final drops on the final plate when Padma yelled, “Time. Chefs, please drop what you are doing and back away.”

Lexa looked down and realized that she and Clarke had miraculously finished plating all of the dishes. Lincoln was going to make it to Judges’ Table.

“Yes!” She yelled, pumping her fist in victory. She turned to Clarke, mouth stretched wide in joy. “We did it,” she laughed, picking up the other woman and spinning her around. “We actually did it! I can’t believe we made it.” She set the other woman down, and saw the laughter and sparkle of Clarke’s blue eyes. Lexa’s heart felt caught in her throat. “Clarke, thank you. I couldn’t have– I couldn’t,” She stuttered.

“Lexa,” said Clarke, eyes full of joy and laughter. “Shut up and kiss me.”

So Lexa did just that and it may have been a kiss brought on by a small tragedy, but it felt like a victory. Clarke’s body crushed to hers, their laughter ringing out into the early twilight. This is what it meant to really win, Lexa was sure of it.

XX

In the end, Lincoln made it to Judge’s Table. The chefs gathered around their friend, encouraging him to sit, to drink water, to just relax for a moment. All of the attention caused the large man to laugh with embarrassment, but he also took great joy in the fact that so many people cared for him. “May I speak to Clarke and Lexa for a moment?” He asked the group.

Once they were alone, Lincoln began, “I want to thank you both.”

Clarke waved off his thanks with a glut of her hand, “Please, it was nothing.”

Lincoln raised a brow, “I watched from the back of the medic station. I saw you two work together and the push you made at the end. That wasn’t nothing to me. It was everything. If I am still here tomorrow, it will only be because of the two of you.”

Lexa reached out, clasping Lincoln’s forearm. “You will be here, Lincoln,” she said sternly.

Lincoln smiled softly at his cousin. “That remains to be seen. Regardless, my food gets a chance to speak for itself, and I wouldn’t be here at all if you hadn’t fought for me.”

“How could we not?” Asked Clarke.

Lincoln turned his gaze to Clarke, “Because I am not yours, Clarke. We are of different crews. It may have been smarter to let me leave tonight. It would have ensured safety for you, and for Octavia.”

Clarke took in the man’s serious features and then pulled him in for a hug. She felt his big, solid arms wrap around her, enveloping her in warmth. “You’re right. You’re not my crew, but you are a good man, Lincoln Woods and I can’t watch anyone else be sacrificed just so the rest of us can move forward.” She released Lincoln from her embrace, returning to stand next to Lexa, slipping her hand into the other woman’s. She felt Lexa give her hand a gentle squeeze of thanks.

Lexa stared off into the night. The judges had elected not to leave B-52 for the elimination portion of the program and the forest had come alive in the cool night air. Lexa felt at peace. She smiled at her cousin, “Do you think Anya would be up for a walk in the woods?”

Lincoln turned his head in confusion, “Sure, but why?”

Lexa shrugged, “Because we will likely not be together when the day of remembrance is upon us and I’d rather remember the people we’ve lost with the people we’ve found than all alone.

Lincoln nodded, turning away and jogging over to Anya. Lexa could hear him explain things to Anya who only nodded. She hopped up from her seat and joined them.

“Heda,” She said. “You’d like to walk?”

Lexa nodded, “Yes. This feels like the time.”

“Then we should go before Padma comes to us.”

Lincoln and Anya turned to walk into the tree. “Wait,” Called Lexa. “We should bring the others.”

“Heda– are you sure?” Asked Anya.

Lexa nodded, turning to Clarke. “How about it, Prisa? Care to take a walk in the woods with me?” She held her hand out to Clarke.

XX

The group emerged from the woods as Padma came to fetch them. “I’m glad you’re here,” she laughed. “The producers were afraid that you’d all rage quit.”

Raven shrugged, “Thought about, but it’s not really my style. If I’m going out, it’s going to be in a blaze of glory.”

Padma laughed, “I’d expect nothing less from you, Raven. Well, now that you are back from your impromptu hike, the judges would like to see all of you.”

The group started walking towards the makeshift sound stage setup in the cask room, Clarke and Lexa lagging behind. Clarke snagged Lexa’s arm pulling her back for just a moment. 

“Clarke?”

“Lexa, before we go in there, I just want to say–“ she paused, searching for the right words.

Clarke felt warm fingers lift to brush aside her bangs, a hand tilting her chin up, and soft lips on hers. She closed her eyes, savoring the quiet moment with Lexa, drinking her in. When she opened them, she saw Lexa staring down at her, smiling softly. “You don’t have to say anything, Clarke. Whatever happens in there with the judges, we face it together. You’re one of us now.”

Clarke nodded, looking back at the trees, slightly swaying in the wind. “It was so beautiful, Lexa. The woods, your cousins, you, I just– thank you for sharing that with me, with us.”

Lexa smiled, “Of course, Clarke. I intend to share much more with you, that is if you’ll let me.”

Raven poked her head outside the doors, “Hey, lovebirds! You’re holding us up. Get in here before Gail falls asleep!”

Clarke laughed as she and Lexa joined their friends in front of the panel of judges.

“Well, I’m glad you all decided to finally join us,” said Tom from his seat. 

“Wouldn’t miss it, chef.” called Octavia. 

Gail laughed as Tom rolled his eyes. “Right, let’s just get on with it shall we?” He gestured to the group. “It was a tough challenge, there was no doubt about that. As a whole, you all did remarkably well.”

“But there was one standout,” said Gail.

“That there was,” agreed Tom. “The winner of this challenge provided the judges and guests with a delightful spin on the challenge itself. Their pairing was dazzling, refreshing, and the knife work demonstrated on each plate was truly stunning.”

“It really was,” said Padma. “I’ve tasted a lot of food as a judge on this show and had a lot of cocktails. I think everyone who has ever watched this show knows that I have a certain affinity for a good alcoholic beverage.”  
Gail laughed, “You may have mentioned it a time or two over the years.”

Padma smiled, “Be that as it may, this is the first time on the show that I may have prefered a mocktail to a cocktail.”

“Lexa,” Gail beamed. “You are our winner tonight?”

Clarke watched Lexa walk up to the judges to shake their hands, all smiles. She returned to her place beside Clarke and gave her a wink.

“The prize for winning this challenge feels rather inappropriate in the context of this challenge win, nevertheless, you’ve won a year’s supply of seasonal beer from B-52 Brewery to be shipped to your restaurant.”

Lexa laughed, the irony of the group’s lone alcoholic receiving free booze was not lost on her. “Don’t worry about it Chef Tom. I’m sure the patrons at Grounders will love it, and if they don’t,” she looked around at the other chefs in the room. “I’m sure I can find some Bay Area chefs willing to take a few cases off my hands.”

Tom exhaled, “Good. I was genuinely a little worried, but Padma convinced me that you would let us know if the prize was inappropriate.”

Lexa nodded, “I appreciate the concern.”

Padma sighed, “Now, on to far less pleasant business.”

“There were only two dishes in this event that gave us pause,” said Gail. “Those were the dishes created by Octavia and Lincoln.”

Octavia and Lincoln moved together, hugging each other tightly. They would be the first of the couples broken apart this evening. Clarke felt terrible for them. She stole a glance at Lexa, noting the way the other woman stood rigidly beside her, jaw clenched, eyes straightforward, hands fisted behind her back. Lexa was wound as tight as a bowstring when moments ago she had been elated. 

Things had a habit of changing quickly on Top Chef.

“Neither of your dishes were bad,” said Tom. 

“They just weren’t great,” agreed Gail. 

“Octavia,” Padma chimed in. “The biggest fault in your dish was the beer pairing. The stout you chose had a very strong oatmeal taste. It coated my palette and made it hard to appreciate the more delicate flavors in your dish.”

“Understood, Padma” acknowledged Octavia.

“I think you were a little too in your own head tonight. You made a few mistakes that I haven’t seen from you before. I can’t help but wonder if you weren’t distracted?” questioned Tom. 

Octavia shrugged, “I think that is probably a fair assessment, chef. After the accident, I - I think it’s safe to say that we were all a little distracted. I would like to point out that my dish was executed as planned for good or bad. I stand behind it and its flaws 100%. I’m proud of the food I put out this evening in spite of the chaos.”

Gail turned, “Lincoln, what do you think your biggest flaw was this evening?”

“Not taking Padma’s advice from yesterday. Obviously I didn’t hydrate appropriately,” he chuckled.

“I’m a woman of much wisdom,” chided Padma. “Maybe next time, you’ll listen to me.”

“You gave us quite a scare out there, Lincoln.” Said Tom. “And it’s only because of your fellow competitors that you’re here at all. They took quite a risk in agreeing to help you.”

Lincoln nodded solemnly, “And I am beyond grateful for that. We all know that I could not have done it without them. However, I ask for no special treatment today. I made an error in judgement which landed me here. I ask that you judge me only on the quality of my food.”

“You sure about that?” said Gail. “Because I hate to tell you this, but the food actually improved in quality once Clarke and Lexa took over. I’m not sure if it was the heat, the beer, or a combination of the two, but your original sauce was much too salty.”

“Lexa,” said Tom.

“Yes, chef?”

“Did you change the sauce?”

Lexa paused, taking a deep breath, “Yes, chef. I did.”

“Why?” said Padma.

Lexa shrugged, “The first batch I tried was too salty as Gail mentioned.”  
“And do you think Lincoln should go home over such a mistake?” Tom didn’t wait for Lexa’s response. He turned to Clarke, “And what about you, Clarke? Do you think Lincoln should go home?”

Clarke was preparing to speak when she felt a hand on her elbow. She looked at Lexa and the other woman shook her head. Clarke took a step back so that Lexa could speak. 

Lexa’s voice shook just a little as she spoke, “I think - I think both Lincoln and Octavia battled bravely today. It was a tough challenge and mistakes were made on both sides. They’ve both acknowledged their flaws, and I believe the person that returns to the competition tonight will have the opportunity to learn from those mistakes. The person who leaves,” she paused. “We will all miss them terribly. But I will not say that Lincoln deserves to stay any more than Octavia. That is not my decision.”

Clarke’s heart hammered in her chest. Lexa had stood by her and protected both Lincoln and Octavia instead of simply recommending that Lincoln be the one to stay. She longed to reach out take Lexa’s hand in hers, but resisted. She knew they were still on camera.

“That was a very diplomatic answer,” said Padma.

Lexa shrugged, “Octavia is one of us. To betray her is to betray those that I love,” Lexa stopped, turning to look at Clarke. “I made a promise. I do not break promises.”

Clarke smiled sadly back at her. 

“Well, I suppose we had better get on with it,” said Padma. “I really do hate this part.”

“Me too,” agreed Gail.

Tom sighed, “Me three. I may be getting too old for this.”

“Pfffft. Speak for yourself, Tom.” teased Padma. “I may hate this part, but I make it look good.”

Tom laughed, “That you do. Now, Padma, will you please be so kind as to deliver our decision to the contestants? I believe they’ve waited long enough.”

“We’re all in agreement as to who should go home?” She turned to Gail and Tom. Both nodded their approval. 

Clarke took a deep breath. 

“Lincoln, please pack your knives and go.”

 

 

 

 

—————————————————————

Episode 8: Something's Brewing

Challenge Winner: Lexa

Eliminated: Lincoln

Contestants Remaining: 5

—————————————————————


	26. Episode 9: The Beginning of the End (Quickfire)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chefs return to the Top Chef House after Lincoln’s elimination. A Quickfire introduces a new guest judge and a new elimination challenge.

Sometimes, Lexa thought, life wasn’t fair. This was one of those times. She knocked softly on the door and heard Clarke call out, “Who is it?”

Lexa cleared her throat, “It’s me.”

She heard whispering behind the door, feet shuffling and then the door clicked. Clarke opened the door, hair mused, a sad smile stretched across her features. “Hey, now’s not really a good time, Lexa. Can we talk later? Octavia is kind of a mess in here.”

“No,” replied Lexa, quickly correcting herself at Clarke’s confused expression. “I mean, yes. We can talk later if you want. I’m just–,” she rubbed the back of her neck.

Clarke leaned against the door, smiling softly. “You’re not here for me, are you?”

Lexa exhaled, nodding. “No, no I’m not. I’m here for Octavia.”

Clarke leaned up, kissing Lexa chastely. “Have I ever told you that you’re a good woman, Lexa Woods?”

Lexa blushed. Clarke shuffled out of the doorway and into the hall, heading towards their room. “I’m going to go shower, if you get done with Octavia in time, maybe you can join me.”

Lexa smiled wickedly, “I will certainly try, prisa. But working with Octavia may take a while.”

Clarke sighed deeply, “Well, if you must, you must. I’ll give you until the hot water runs out,” and she sauntered away.

Lexa looked up at the sky, “Lincoln, if you can hear me or sense my thoughts or whatever, please know that you soooo owe me for this.” She opened the door to the dimly lit room. Octavia was curled into a chair, knees raised to her chest, head buried in her arms, shaking with quiet sobs. Lexa’s heart clenched in sympathy. “Octavia?” She whispered into the quiet room.

Octavia looked up, sniffing, trying to wipe away the tears rolling down her face with the sleeve of her shirt. “Lexa? God, I thought you were Clarke.”

Lexa shook her head, “No, I sent Clarke away. I wanted to have a word with you.”

“With me?” Octavia hiccuped. 

Lexa nodded sternly, “Yes, there are things i would like to say to you. Would you meet me outside in say, ten minutes?”

Octavia nodded quickly and Lexa turned to leave the room.

“You’re not going to kill me are you?” Octavia called out.

Lexa laughed and then shrugged. “Probably not, but I can’t say the same for Anya.” She shut the door, chuckling at Octavia’s horrified face as she left the room.

XX

Octavia showed up exactly ten minutes later. She was prompt, Lexa would give her that. The young chef bounded over to where Anya and Lexa stood, feet apart, shoulders back. “Hey,” She said, coming to a stop in front of the two women, ponytail swinging behind her. “What did you two want to talk about?”

Anya’s eyes narrowed, “We would like to discuss Lincoln.”

Octavia’s shoulders slumped, “Listen, I’m really sorry that he went home. You have no idea. And I’m sorry if you feel like I’ve made his leaving all about my feelings. I’ve probably come off as some huge, self-absorbed asshole. But I really like your cousin, like a lot. And I wasn’t expecting that, so if you could just forgive me, that would be great because I don’t want you two to be mad at me, and I don’t want to feel sad that Lincoln is gone. I’m sure we’ll see him soon, right?”

Lexa and Anya stood quietly. 

“Right?” Octavia asked again.

“Has she always talked this much?” Asked Anya.

Lexa shook her head, “Not that I remember.”

“Do you think we broke her?”

Lexa scanned Octavia up and down, “Maybe.”

“Hey!” Said Octavia, clenching her fists. “I’m literally right here.”

Lexa laughed, “Octavia, we aren’t mad at you.”

“You’re not? Even though Lincoln went home instead of me.”

Anya shrugged, “Lincoln didn’t go home because of you. He went home because your dish was better than his. Marginally.”

“It really did look kind of weird,” mumbled Lexa.

“I wouldn’t have eaten it,” agreed Anya.

Octavia scowled. “If all you two are here to do is criticize my cooking, then I’m going back inside. I had a bad day, ok? And it’s not like you two haven’t cooked some real duds during this competition.”

Anya leaned into Lexa, “She has a lot of bite. I like that.”

Lexa nodded, “Me too. Should we begin?”

“Let’s,” said Anya gesturing towards the wide, open lawn. “Come with us, Octavia.”

“Where are we going?”

“Not far,” Lexa called over her shoulder. “Just around the other side of the storage shed. Lexa led the group around the side of the brightly painted shed to an open area. She bent down and picked up a long, sturdy piece of wood. She twirled it in her hand. “Do you know what this is?”

Octavia’s eyes followed Lexa’s hand movements, hypnotized by the twirling and spinning of the bow. She shook her head, swallowing. “No, but I want to find out,” she said, reaching down to pick up another, holding the unfamiliar weight in her hands.

Lexa watched Octavia admire the staff, running her hands down the smooth wood, enjoying the “whoosh” sound it made when swung through the air just right. She remembered the first time she’d held a smaller version of the same object in her hands. She remembered the way her father smiled at her, showing her the proper forms to take, the way her mother taught her to breathe, exhaling all doubt and fear. She thought of training with Anya and Lincoln, their bruises and fights, how they laughed and cried, fought and made up at trainings. And she remembered the staffs smoldering in the rubble of her home as Polis burned to nothing around them.

She shook her head of the memories. Some things were gone forever, but sometimes you could make something better, stronger, by building something new from the ashes. 

“This,” She said, swinging the staff above her head in a circle. “This is a what my people call a tri bloka.”

“Roughly translated it means ‘tree shield.’ It’s the Polis version of a Bo Staff,” explained Anya, leaning herself against her own staff.

“So it’s a weapon?” Asked Octavia. “Cool!”

Lexa shook her head, swinging the staff behind her back. “It is so much more than that, Octavia. Bloka means ‘shield’ and that is the staff’s primary purpose. Not to attack, but to protect and defend. Our people were not a violent one.”

Anya snorted, “We left that to Azgeda. Bunch of morons running around with swords. Do you know how many people in Azgeda had nine toes or nine fingers?” She laughed, wiping her eyes. 

Lexa raised a brow, effectively silencing Anya. “As I was saying, the people of Polis protect. Lincoln mentioned that you were interested in learning more of our culture?”

Octavia perked up, “Yes! Absolutely.”

Lexa nodded, “Good. Consider this your first lesson.” Lexa brought the tri bloka down quickly slapping Octavia’s staff out of her hand. “Never let your enemy disarm you.” Lexa gestured at the fallen staff. “Pick it up.”

Octavia picked up the staff, holding it gingerly in her hands, determination etched across her brow. “Teach me everything.”

Lexa nodded to Anya, “Shall we begin?”

Anya laughed, swinging her staff over her head and then falling into a crouch. “This should be fun.”

XX

Lexa walked back to her room rubbing sweat off of her neck with a towel as she went. Octavia was a fast learner. Lexa had a few red marks across her skin to prove it. She smiled to herself, rubbing the sore parts of her arm. The bruises and aches would be well worth it. Octavia’s spirits seemed much improved when Lexa extricated herself from the prolonged training Anya and Octavia were still conducting.

She absently opened the door to her room and stopped when she saw Clarke. The other chef was passed out in the middle of the bed, blonde hair scattered across the pillows. Lexa tiptoed quietly through the room trying not to wake the sleeping woman. They could all use a rest and as soon as Lexa could snag a shower she had every intention of joining the quietly snoring chef sprawled out across the mattress. 

Lexa undressed and stepped into the large shower, turning on the spray and waiting for the cold water to warm against her skin. She dipped her head under the spray, letting the last beads of sweat be washed away, singing as the water began to warm.

She opened an eye when she heard the shower door click open and was surprised to see Clarke on the other side of the door, leaning her head against the doorframe.

“Hey you,” Clarke yawned sleepily. “How did it go with Octavia? I looked outside before coming in here and it looks like Anya’s bearing her with a big stick.”

Lexa chuckled, lathering shampoo in her hands before working it into her scalp. “She’s learning more about what it means to be one of our people, one of Lincoln’s people,” she said. She leaned back, letting the water cascade down her back, washing the soap out of her hair. She didn’t miss the way Clarke’s eyes hungrily drank in the view and she shivered in response.

God, her response to this woman was maddeningly strong sometimes. How she could go from a quiet conversation to heat fueled kisses and then collapse into fits of giggle in just a few moments. It was the best kind of whiplash. “Like what you’re seeing there, Prisa?”

Clarke shrugged, watching Lexa lather herself with something vanilla scented. “I can appreciate a work of art as much the next person.”

Lexa looked up from where she was washing soap off her leg. “A work of art? You flatter me.”

Clarke laughed, gesturing to the naked woman in front of her. “I’d have to be blind to not notice you, Lexa. Sometimes when we’re competing or just sitting around, I have this itch just to reach out and touch you. To see if you’re really here.”

“You’re always free to touch, Clarke.” Teased Lexa. “I can’t make any guarantees that I will be able to keep my hands off of you if you do though,” she laughed.

“Is that a promise,” Clarke asked huskily.

Lexa felt the mood shift in an instant. She turned the shower off, reaching for a towel to dry her hair. Clarke watched her, blue eyes nearly black with want.

Lexa stepped out of the shower, crowding into Clarke’s space, breathing becoming ragged. She could see Clarke’s eyes flirting between her lips and the hollow of her breasts hidden beneath the towel she was wrapped in. 

Clarke shuddered out a breath, looking up into her eyes. “Lexa?” She said reaching out, but not quite touching her, hands flexing near her towel covered hip.

Lexa leaned in, her lips a whisper from Clarke’s, their breath intermingling in the humid air. “Tell me what you want, Clarke. Show me,” She all but growled.

Clarke moaned, grabbing Lexa’s hips, crashing their bodies together, lips meeting in a clash of need and heat. 

Minutes dragged on, kiss never breaking except to suck in a stuttered breath or to let out a quiet gasp or moan. Lexa whimpered just a little when she felt Clarke place a hand on her chest, pushing her away. She opened her eyes, taking in eyes dark with desire, hair mused from Lexa’s fingers, lips swollen. Clarke had never looked more beautiful. 

“Take me to bed, Lexa.” She husked, and Lexa obeyed.

XX

The Top Chef Kitchen was unusually quiet while the chefs waited to hear what their Quickfire challenge would be. The empty space where Lincoln normally stood weighing heavily on the room.

Lexa watched as Octavia furiously sharpened her knives. The young chef proudly sported a small bruise across her cheekbone from her training yesterday afternoon. 

Raven was stretching her injured leg at the table next to her. Lexa could hear the metallic creek of the braces as Raven tried to work out the lingering soreness. Her injury wasn’t healing as fast as Lexa would like.

Anya stood quietly, eyes facing forward, shoulder set back, legs spread as if ready to take off at a moment’s notice. She would have been the picture of quiet determination and serenity if not for her quickly moving lips mumbling words just out of Lexa’s hearing. 

Then there was Clarke and, as she was quickly becoming used to, Lexa’s heart leapt in her chest. Clarke was casually bent over her work station, sketching in her journal. Lexa watched as the other woman reached up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear, straightening the oversized watch that didn’t even work on her wrist, and returning to her drawing.

Lexa sighed, if given a chance, she had a feeling she could sit all day and watch Clarke do nothing but draw. Maybe, she thought. Maybe one day.

“Good afternoon, chefs!” Padma called excitedly as she entered the kitchen.

Today was not that day, thought Lexa. The other chefs came to attention as Padma took her place under the lights. 

“Not very many of you left at this point,” Padma observed.

“There are many who are gone, but none who are forgotten,” Anya said solemnly. 

Lexa nodded sternly, “May we meet again.”

“May we meet again,” echoed the other chefs. The moment hung in the air.

After a few moments of silence, Padma broke the quiet. “One of the hardest parts of this competition is seeing competitors leave week after week. Towards the end, it often seems cruel but, unfortunately, that’s just the way competition is. Reaching the top five is quite an accomplishment and I hope you are all very proud of yourselves.”

The chefs stood quietly.

Padma coughed, “Right. Well, on to the Quickfire shall we? This week I want you to create something sweet.”

Lexa heard Raven groan from her table, “Don’t be a baking challenge, don’t be a baking challenge.”

“Sorry, Raven,” said Padma. “This definitely is a baking challenge.”

Raven threw her hands up in the air in exasperation. “Might as well send me home now,” she exclaimed. 

Padma rolled her eyes as Raven’s dramatics. “Thankfully, this isn’t a sudden death Quickfire. The winner of this challenge won’t be receiving immunity or an advantage in the next challenge.”

“Wonderful,” Raven pouted, crossing her arms.

Padma raised a finger, silencing the sulking Latina. “They will, however, receive a $10,000 prize from our sponsors, the Glad family of products to help make their culinary dreams a reality.”

Lexa bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. Every week Padma has to work in the sponsors during her talks and every week it became funnier to Lexa. Glad family of products indeed. 

Padma continued, “You’ll have two hours to create a dish from start to finish using the mystery ingredients on the table behind me. There are no parameters on what you can cook, but you must have at least one baked item, understood?”

Padma waited for their acknowledgement, pointed up at the digital clock that read two hours and yelled, “Go.”

For maybe the first time ever, the chefs didn’t sprint to the table of ingredients. Instead, they stepped around their workstations eyeing each other carefully, measuring the value of their friendship versus the rewards of the competition. 

Clarke pulled her hair back into a loose ponytail, reaching for Raven’s hand and then giving it a squeeze. “All together ladies?” She asked them. They all nodded, quietly linking arms and walking as one over to the challenge table. 

Lexa took the drape cloth in her hand, preparing to give it a good tug. “Ready?” She asked. The other women nodded and she pulled.

XX

Berries. The mystery ingredient had been baskets and baskets of berries. Lexa has been thrilled, but not quite as pleased as Clarke who had pumped her first in the air as if she’d already won this particular challenge.

Lexa looked over at where Clarke worked now, almost an hour and forty-five minutes into the competition. She had flour on her nose and running through her hair, a deep purple stain marred her white coat, and she was grinning from ear to ear as she whipped cream and vanilla together in a bowl. Clarke had taken her dish out of the oven a few minutes ago to cool and, satisfied with the outcome, had moved on to making a whipped cream.

Lexa turned back to the pastry in her oven willing it to rise faster. She’d opted for a flaky strawberry pastry, but she could see the butter leaching out of it from where she’d overworked the dough under the hot studio lights. “Come on, come on, come on,” she muttered to herself. If she had enough time at the end, she might be able to save this dish.

Time whittled away until only a few minutes remained. Lexa plates her pastry, trying to hide its defects underneath a rich strawberry compote. It wasn’t a clean dish or an elegant one, but Lexa was pretty sure it was going to taste good.

She was wiping the edge of her plate off as Padma called “Time! Put your utensils down and step away from your dishes.”

Lexa threw her hands up, backing away from her dish. She was mostly pleased with her dish but was extremely relieved that this was not a sudden death Quickfire. 

Padma stepped up under the lights, crossing her hands in front of her slim figure. “Contestants, we have a very special guest judge this week. He is a close friend of mine, so I expect you to produce scrumptious meals for him to enjoy. Known for his work on Netflix’s Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt, 30 Rock, and various other movie and television appearances, fresh off of his 300 person one-man show, please help me welcome Tituss Burgess.”

All of the chefs cheered as Tituss walked out. He was a tallish, smoothed skinned, black man with sparkling eyes and a quick smile. Lexa was familiar with much of his work and found him to be a breath of fresh air amidst a lot of dreary television programming.

“Greetings chefs,” Tituss called out to them in his patented sing-song voice. “I love a good bit of culinary drama, so I’m tickled to be joining you all.”

“And we’re very pleased to have you here, Tituss,” said Padma. She turned back to the contestants, “Chefs, we’re going to be scoring this round a little differently. Each of you has a clipboard and a pencil. You’ll each go around sampling each dish and scoring it from 1 to 5. 1 being fine and 5 being absolutely flawless. Please be impartial in your judging. Tituss and I will also be scoring the desserts so that it’s fair. You’ll have five minutes, so get going.

Lexa hastily grabbed her clipboard and made her way around the room. She sampled the selection of desserts and was pleased, but anxious to see that all of the dessert made today were really quite good. Even Raven had managed to pull off a raspberry tart that had a nice kick to it despite all of her complaints. 

The last dish Lexa tried was Clarke’s. It had been pretty picked over by the time Lexa got to it, but she could tell it was a blackberry cobbler with a rise through crust. Clarke had opted to serve it with vanilla whipped cream. Lexa thought that serving it this way instead of with vanilla ice cream was probably a wise decision given the time constraints. 

Lexa scraped her spoon across the top of the crust delighted to hear a nice crackle. She took a generous helping of the cobbler, a dollop of whipped cream and bit in. Her taste buds exploded. Sharp blackberries, a hint of cinnamon, and a trace amount of honey hit her palate and Lexa found herself unable to do anything but hum in appreciation. Now this was a dessert.

Lexa wiped her mouth with a napkin, hurried back to her station and jotted down her thoughts about each dessert, but inevitably kept coming back to Clarke’s cobbler. Lexa looked at her scoresheet, most of the other desserts had been scored as 3s or 4s, but she didn’t hesitate to circle 5 next to Clarke’s name and jot down some words of encouragement.

Tituss came around to collect the sheets and then tallied up the totals with Padma. When he got to a certain sheet, his brow lifted. “Who is Lexa?”

Lexa looked around, uncertain as to why she was being called upon to speak. She raised her hand, “Me. I’m Lexa.”

“My dear, did you know you are the only chef to give out a 5?”

Lexa grinned, “I had no way of knowing that, but I’m not surprised that my fellow contestants were harsh critics.” She shrugged. “It’s to be expected.”

“But you only gave out one,” he gestured to the scoresheet to emphasize his point.

Lexa nodded, “I did. It was well deserved.”

Tituss looked at the scoresheet. “Who is Clarke?”

Clarke raised her hand quickly, “Over here.”

Tituss looked at the final score rallies and then between Lexa and Clarke. “You’ll be happy to know that, based on the score Lexa awarded you, you have been elevated far beyond the reach of your fellow competitors.”

Clarke’s jaw dropped, “You mean I won?”

Tituss checked the scores again and nodded, “Yes, girlie. You definitely won. By a long shot. Most of your scores were 4s, but Lexa’s 5 ensured that no one else could reach you. She elevated you right into victory.”

Lexa frowned, raising her hand. Tituss turned to her, confusion on his face. “Yes, Lexa?”

Lexa lowered her hand, looking around the room. “I don’t mean to offend, but it isn’t my score elevating Clarke’s dish. Clarke has won this challenge because hers was, by far, the best dessert.” Lexa could see her fellow competitors nodding in agreement at her side. “Clarke elevates herself, sir, and she and her dish deserve the recognition here and not the scoring mechanism.

Lexa watched Tituss’ eyes narrow, sizing her up. She watch some unknown emotion flicker across his face and then pass, replaced with a laugh and a quick, “Of course she deserves the credit. Brava, Clarke. Magnificent job indeed. You’ve just won $10,000.”

Clarke smiled widely, “Thank you. You don’t know how much this means to me and my Restaurant.”

Padma clapped, drawing the focus back to her. “Now, chefs, we’re not quite done with Tituss yet.”

“Say it girl,” teased Tituss. “Tell then what’s next!”

Padma smiled, “It’s a party!” She said excitedly.

Tituss did a quick twirl and then stopped, “It’s my birthday to be exact and I love to celebrate my birthday.”

Padma sighed wistfully, “You really do throw the best parties.

Tituss winked, “Don’t I know it. Now go ahead, Padma. Tell them the theme for this year.”

Padma coughed, redirecting her focus. “Of course, of course. This year’s theme is ‘The beginning and the end’ and it will be your responsibility to come up with a duo that symbolizes both ideals. So each of you will prepare two dishes for Tituss and twenty of his closest friends.”

“Make sure the portion sizes are appropriate darlings,” said Tituss. “We like to eat like we’re ravenous animals,” he clawed at the air playfully.

Padma laughed, “I’ve seen this first hand, so I can attest that this is true. Chefs, you’ll shop at Whole Foods today and have three hours to prep your food here in the Top Chef Kitchen this evening. Tomorrow, you’ll receive two hours to finish off your dishes and prepare them to be served at the event. The stakes are high this week as this is the last elimination before the Last Chance Kitchen finale. One eliminated chef will be rejoining us next week as we gear up for the last few episodes.”

“So bring your A-game and I’ll bring my appetite,” said Tituss.

Padma laughed, “Looks like this is the beginning of the end.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A reader asked if I could put together a score tally of who has won what so far. I’ll include the official scoresheet at the end of Episode 9 for review.
> 
>  
> 
> I can’t believe we’re almost at the end of this thing!


	27. Episode 9: The Beginning of the End (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soooo... the “eventual smut” tag is fulfilled in this chapter. *cough*
> 
> I’ve never tried to write any sex scenes before so it was something of a challenge. 
> 
> If that’s not your thing, sorry? 
> 
> Competition resumes next chapter.

Clarke stepped into the Top Chef Kitchen in a flurry of panic. She looked under her workstation, in the trash can by the cutting board, and even check the oven. She looked everywhere she could think to look and still, nothing.

Lexa walked up calmly behind her. “Find it?”

Clarke shook her head, swallowing a gulp and pushing back tears. “Lexa, I can’t find it. I can’t find my watch.” Her eyes glistened. She felt fear bubble up inside her and she squeezed Lexa’s arm hard enough to make the other woman wince. “Sorry,” she mumbled absently, rubbing the angry red mark on Lexa’s arm.

Lexa drew her in for a hug, wrapping her up in her warmth. Clarke felt Lexa’s lips linger near her forehead. “It’s going to be ok, Clarke. We’ll find it.”

Clarke buried her face further into Lexa’s solid form. “You don’t understand,” She croaked, voice shaking uncontrollably. “It was my dad’s, Lexa.”

Clarke felt Lexa’s arms tighten around her. “Ok then,” she whispered. “We’re just going to have to find it.”

Clarke leaned back, searching Lexa’s face for a trace of hesitation. Their challenge prep time was precious. Instead she saw determination in Lexa’s eyes, and she leaned into Lexa’s gentle touch as the other woman wiped a tear away from her eyes. “Thank you,” Clarke whispered. 

“Aye, niron. How could I not help?” she smiled down at Clarke. “Let’s find that watch.” Lexa said, giving Clarke’s hand a light squeeze.

Clarke nodded, wiping the way the last of her tears. They wouldn’t do her any good now. “Lexa?” She asked. The other woman had already turned away from her to begin scouring through Clarke’s workstation again. 

“Yes, Clarke?” Said Lexa, still engrossed in her task.

“What does niron mean? That’s not a word I’ve heard you use before.” Clarke watched Lexa’s shoulders stiffen in surprise as the other woman turned. Clarke noted the blush on Lexa’s cheek.

“Oh, umm-,” Lexa fumbled. “It’s just a term of affection in my culture. Why?”

Clarke shrugged. “I don’t know. Just the way you said it made me feel-,” She searched for the right word.

“Yes?”

Clarke sighed in frustration, “I don’t know. It made me feel nice I suppose. I liked the way you said it. I liked the way you looked at me when you said it.”

Lexa nodded, taking Clarke’s hand. “Good. I’m glad it made you feel special, because you are special to me, niron. Now, let’s not waste anymore time, hmmm? We’ve got a watch to find.”

Clarke went back to searching for the watch, but she couldn’t help noticing how Lexa kept watching her during their search, how she stayed just close enough to give Clarke comfort while also giving her space. After an hour of searching, finding nothing, she finally told Lexa to call off the search. The watch was gone, but they still had a competition to win.

XX

When the chefs arrived back at the Top Chef House, Anya took Raven and Octavia outside for more practice with the staffs. Raven wasn’t going to participate because her leg was still giving her trouble, but she was never one to miss an opportunity to watch Anya get sweaty.

Clarke and Lexa retreated to their room, choosing to stay in each other’s arms, sprawled across their bed. Clarke nuzzled closer into Lexa’s neck, breathing her in as Lexa’s hand traveled in soothing circles across her back. 

They’d taken their food stained clothes off when they got back to the house and the skin-on-skin contact and the brush of soft underwear separating them felt comforting in a way Clarke couldn’t describe. She wanted to sink into Lexa, to drown her sorrow in her. Usually, relying on someone like that would scare her, but with Lexa it didn’t. She felt like she could trust this woman. She’d seen Lexa stripped bare in every way and Clarke couldn’t help but be awestruck at the woman currently sharing her bed.

“I can hear you thinking from here, Prisa,” Lexa murmured. 

Clarke sighed, wrapping her arms tighter around Lexa. She didn’t want to leave this room. She didn’t want to face the challenge tomorrow, and she didn’t want to think about losing her dad’s watched. “I’m going to have to call my mom,” she whispered.

She felt Lexa’s hand smoothing down her hair, a feather light kiss placed on the crown of her head. “She’ll understand, niron. Losing it was an accident.”

Clarke wished she could explain to Lexa that the watch was more than just a symbol of her father. It was a symbol of their family, of what they had before. “That watch was the most valuable thing I’ve ever owned.”

Lexa was silent, giving Clarke her space. Clarke continued, “My dad was wearing it when he met my mom.” She looked up into Lexa’s kind green eyes. “Have I told you how they met?”

Lexa shook her head.

“My dad was an engineer and my mom was, is, a surgeon. He was always a little absent minded, a little too in his own head. He was always wearing mismatched socks, or leaving the house with his shirt on inside out,” Clarke chuckled. “And on this day, he was running late. He was crossing the street and stopped to look at the time.”

Lexa laughed lightly, “Your father stopped in the middle of the street to check his watch?”

Clarke smiled at the story she’d heard a thousand times. “Like I said, he was a little absent minded. So, he stopped in the middle of the road and then he heard someone yell. He looked up and there was a woman on a bike hurtling towards him.”

“And they crashed together?”

Clarke nodded, “And they crashed together. It ruined my mom’s bike, my dad had to have nine stitches on his chin, and it broke his watch. It didn’t hurt the face of it, but the crash loosened the pieces inside so that the hands couldn’t turn on their own anymore. And he never got it fixed. He said that was the day that his old life ended and his new life began. He wanted to remember that day.” Clarke croaked, tears beginning to fall.

“Shhhh, shhhh,” Lexa cradled her. “This is a good memory, Clarke. Your father loved you and your mother. You know this. Even if we don’t find the watch, you know how much he cared.”

Clarke nodded, wiping away her tears, “You’re right. Of course, you’re right. I just- I just wanted to keep a piece of him, you know?”

Lexa nodded, “I was the same after Costia died. The day Anya and I cleaned out her closet was one of the hardest days of my life.” 

Clarke watched Lexa’s eyes cloud over in grief. She reached out, stroking the side of Lexa’s face. “You don’t have to talk about this right now, Lexa. It’s ok.”

Lexa nodded, turning her head to kiss Clarke’s palm tenderly. “Thank you, niron.”

Clarke’s brow rose. “Are you going to tell me what niron means anytime soon? It’s not like I have easy access to Google right now or I’d just look it up myself.”

Lexa laughed, shrugging. “To explain would be a very long and exhausting conversation, but I’m up for it if you are.”

Clarke tapped her chin, considering. Then she turned to Lexa, devious smile on her face. “I know something else we could do that’s long and exhausting that doesn’t require us to speak at all."

Lexa smiled as Clarke leaned up to kiss her, soft and gentle. Usually their kisses were hard and fast, full of fire. Clarke often felt like, if she didn’t get enough of Lexa, she might burn alive with want. This was different. This kiss was slow and deep, a scrape of teeth, a whisper of lips. It felt like it could last forever and Clarke pouted as the kiss came to an end.

She looked down at the woman underneath her, long and limber, hair splayed across the mountain of pillows, lips thoroughly bruised like her own. 

“Clarke?”

Clarke looked into Lexa’s eyes, saw her own want echoed back. She leaned in, whispering into Lexa’s ear. “Make love to me, Lexa.” She felt Lexa’s entire body tremble beneath her and relished in the power she had over this glorious woman, and didn’t question the power Lexa had over her in return.

“Whatever you wish, niron,” Lexa husked. Lexa sat up gently reaching out to unhook Clarke’s bra, making quick work of the offending garment. She scattered kisses across her collarbone, and placed gentle nips across her chest until reaching her breasts.

Clarke arched into the whisper of Lexa’s breath, asking for more. And Lexa obliged, taking a stiff bud in her mouth, causing Clarke to gasp out loud at the sensation. How did this always feel so good?

She carded her hands through Lexa’s hair, pulling the other woman away so that she could devour her mouth. Her hips started a rocking motion of their own accord ripping a panting moan from both women. 

Lexa’s hips bucked against her own, seeking friction. “Clarke,” the other woman panted. “Please, let me-,” Lexa rolled them over so that she was on top, quickly ridding herself of her own bra and underwear. She reached down to Clarke’s underwear, slipping a finger through the top and stopping to look up, asking Clarke silently if she wanted to continue.

Clarke nodded, “Please, Lexa. Hurry.”

And then her underwear was off, thrown across the room to be dealt with later, and Lexa’s deliciously warm bod was on top of hers. She arched underneath the woman’s touch, moaning where contact was made and whimpering when Lexa refused to take things further.

“Stop it, you big tease,” Clarke husked.

Lexa grinned, nipping at Clarke’s jaw. “Let me have this, Clarke. Let me take care of you tonight.”

Clarke reached out, running her hand through Lexa’s tousled hair. “I feel like you’ve been taking care of me since we got here. When do I get to take care of you?”

Lexa smiled, “You have, niron. More than you know. Meeting you has quieted my heart and taught it to sing again, to want again. Let me show you that. Let me show you how you make me feel.”

Lexa nibbled her way down Clarke’s torso, pausing to plant a kiss on the slight swell of Clarke’s belly. Her lips wandered further down and Clarke’s breath faltered, hips moving to bump Lexa’s chin.

“Slow down, Prisa,” Lexa kissed the inside of her thigh. “We have all night.”

Clarke groaned as she felt Lexa’s hand slowly caress up her inner leg, barely skating through the thin thatch of hair at the apex of her thighs. She thought she might be on the verge of combusting until she felt Lexa’s tongue make contact with her center.

She cried out as Lexa worked her over, tongue circling her, drawing out gasps and moans, and shivers across her entire body. She reached down and felt Lexa’s hand slide into her own, grasping her firmly, tethering her to this moment. 

And then she exploded, back arching off the bed, a short cry escaping her lips. She came down from her high, floating back down to the bed and the woman kissing her way up her body.

Lexa brushed away the hair matted to Clarke’s forehead. “Hey,” She whispered leaning her head against Clarke’s.

“Hey,” Clarke said back, a foolish grin plastered across her face. She reached up to draw Lexa in, moaning at the taste of herself on the other woman’s tongue, she could feel nimble fingers, beginning to stoke her center and she canted into the touch. “Please, Lexa,” she gasped.

Lexa smiled into the kiss, biting at her lip. “Please what, Prisa? Tell me what you need.”

Clarke choked back a moan, “Inside, please- Need you. Lexa-,”

“Clarke,” Lexa said sternly. “Open your eyes. Look at me, Clarke.”

Clarke did as she was asked, blue eyes fluttering open to meet green, and then Lexa shifted causing Clarke to moan loudly as two fingers entered her. “Lexa,” she gasped, never taking her eyes off the other woman.

Lexa’s fingers were like magic, pumping in and out of Clarke, finding hidden spots that made her body sing with pleasure. Lexa groaned as Clarke began to tighten around her, grinding her wet center down on Clarke’s thigh, trying to find her own release. “God, Clarke-,” she panted. “God, I’m so close.”

Clarke whimpered, reaching out to stroke Lexa just where she needed it and she groaned as Lexa threw her head back and came with a shout of her name. Lexa’s cry triggered Clarke’s own orgasm and she felt herself tumbling again, happy to be caught in the strength of Lexa’s embrace.

They lay tangled together until their breathing evened out and then deepened. For now, they let sleep overtake them, happy to let the world fade away and just live in this moment.


	28. Episode 9: The Beginning of the End (The Challenge)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chefs face off as they prepare dishes for guest judge, Tituss Burgess. Feelings are explores, food is served, and one of our heroes is sent home.
> 
> P.S. This thing is officially over 100K long. WHOA!!!!!

Lexa hummed as she put together her dish. She’d opted for minimalism in both the food she was cooking and the presentation itself. She was going to be one of the first competitors to serve and she felt relieved at being able to just get this over with. Raven worked diligently next to her and the shorter chef was flicking what looked like red food dye on her plate with a paint brush. Whatever the intent, Lexa thought the plate looked a little like a crime scene.

She smiled to herself as she turned back to her dish. She’d opted for a corn and mango starter for her first dish and a seared ribeye with a sweet corn and mango balsamic for her second dish. Lexa was happy with the way her ribeye was turning out. She’d had just enough time to salt her ribeyes before time had run out the day before and the crust they had on them was sure to make the meat sing. 

She tasted her corn and mango starter. It was good, but not great she thought. The corn wasn’t quite grilled enough. Lexa looked up at the clock, wondering if she had enough time to grill a few more ears. 

“To hell with it,” she muttered, slapping the corn down on the grill. 

“Having problems over there, Commander?” Raven called from across the room.

Lexa laughed, turning the corn over while still watching her steaks. “You wish, Reyes!”

Lexa watched her corn cook for a few more minutes until it got the char she wanted. She quickly moved it off the grill and sheered the kernels off of the ear, adding it to what remained of her chopped mango. Mindful of the clock, she seasoned quickly and began to plate her dishes. Her knife cuts weren’t as precise as she’d like, but what she lost in precision, Lexa thought she’d more than gained in flavor.

She plated both dishes, wiped the edges of the plates to ensure there weren’t any spills and stepped back just as the timer beeped. 

“Hot damn!” Raven called out in triumph. She turned to Lexa, “Ready to do this, Commander?”

Lexa nodded picking up two of her plates, following Raven as she lightly limped out of the kitchen, her own dishes in her hands.

Lexa and Raven entered the dining room and Lexa stopped to take in her surroundings. What was probably a banquet hall had been turned into a lush environment. Rich purple curtains hung from every wall, gold and purple flowers littered the long dining table, and tapered candles gave the entire effect a soft, intimate glow.

In the middle of the table, surrounded by friends and judges, sat their guest judge in all of his glory. Lexa thought Tituss might be wearing a cape, but she couldn’t be sure as she placed her plates down in front of the judges while wait staff served the rest of the guests.

Raven and Lexa waited while their dishes were distributed to the diners before they started talking. Lexa listened as Raven explained that her dish had been inspired by birth and death, in this case, of a chicken. She had grilled a spice covered ear of corn, serving a perfectly fried egg on top of it. 

For her second dish, Raven declared the massacre on a plate “The Butcher.” Each plate had half a chicken separated out in its various pieces, poached in a red wine. The wine gave the chicken a gruesome purple color, and the red mash and dye served as garnish on the plate made Lexa think mostly of roadkill. While the plate certainly looked gruesome, none of the guests complained about flavor. Several of them went so far as to try and steal small pieces of chicken off of each other’s plates.

Padma eyes Tituss’ plate and an unguarded drumstick only to receive a sharp whack on the wrist. “Don’t even think about it girl,” Tituss teased. “I intend to finish every morsel of this little nibblet.”

Raven laughed at the shocked look on Padma’s face and Lexa felt happy that the feisty chef seemed to have a crowd pleaser on her hands.

Her own dish was met with quiet hums of approval as the guests quickly cut into their steaks.

“Two corn dishes,” Tom noted, taking a bite of his steak.

Lexa nodded, “Yes, sir. I can only assume that Raven saw the amazing selection of fresh corn at Whole Foods and had the same thought I did.”

Gail nodded, “You’re probably right. Can I ask a question?”

“Of course, Gail.”

Gail studied her plate and then looked up at Lexa, smile in her eyes. “How long did it take you to cut this corn? It looks a little like you took a machete to it.”

Lexa laughed, shrugging. “You’re probably right. If I had a little more time, I would have finessed it a bit more. As it stands, I think I traded perfect knife skills for better flavor. Let’s just call it heart over head in this instance. Soul over precision. That’s not my usual style, but it’s served its purpose here tonight.”

“A pity that your heart and your head couldn’t come together on this one,” chirped Tituss. “Could this be an instance of your feelings overpowering your sense of duty as a chef? Were you distracted in the kitchen today? I heard from a little bird that you were involved in some drama in the kitchen yesterday.”

Lexa stiffened, shoulders straightening. “I can assure you, Tituss, I am more than capable of separating my feelings from my duty as a chef,” she ground out. “To question that is to question my skills as a chef, and that is not something that I can look past.”

“Those are some pretty strong words,” Replied Tituss, an edge coating his voice. “Careful who you say them to.”

Lexa nodded. “I mean no disrespect, sir. I simply will not have my skills questioned. I have proven time and time again in this competition that I am a skilled chef. I am the Commander in my kitchen, and my food speaks for itself.”

Tituss leaned forward, fingers tucked under his chin. “And what if your food says something different tonight? What if your food tells us to send you home?”

Raven gasped beside her. The room fell silent and it was almost like a gun had gone off, leaving only shock in its wake. Lexa felt like the words hit her in the chest, uneasiness overtaking her. She suddenly felt sick to her stomach. “I would suppose,” she licked her lips nervously. She looked around the room taking in the room around her, finally settling on Raven’s nervous face. Lexa collected herself, “I suppose that this would be a good ending then. I stand behind this dish. If I am eliminated this evening, then I would hope to return to the competition through Last Chance Kitchen. My people have a saying when someone leaves ‘May we meet again.’ If I am eliminated tonight,” Lexa narrowed her eyes, steel ringing in her voice, “We will meet again.”

Tituss leaned back in his chair, a hush hanging over the group. Then he broke into an enormous smile, clapping loudly, “Brava, Lexa! Absolutely fantastic! What a show of strength. What nerve! What firy steel! I love it!”

Lexa exhaled, nodding to the room and quickly ushering Raven out into the hallway. They both stopped on the other side of the door, leaning against the wall for support. It felt like they had run an emotional marathon.

Raven put her head between her legs, taking in a few deep breaths before looking up at Lexa with a smirk. “Is it just me, or is that guy cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs crazy?”

XX

Clarke looked down at the empty space on her wrist where her father’s watch should be for the hundredth time that night and felt like bursting into tears yet again. The thin tan line the watch had left served as a reminder of what she had lost, and she knew that all too soon, the Texas sun would strip away even that reminder. And while she felt upset, Clarke had been determined to funnel those emotions into the meal she was preparing. 

She had the kitchen all to herself as the last chef to cook. Having so much space to move was a luxury in this competition, but she missed Raven and Octavia’s easy banter, Anya’s quiet determination, and she especially missed looking up from her workstation to see Lexa staring back at her. Clarke sighed. If she was honest with herself, she wasn’t looking forward to leaving the competition once it was over. She was going to miss her friends.

Brushing those thoughts aside, Clarke returned to her plating. She only had a few moments left to make sure everything was absolutely perfect. She took a step back, admiring the dishes she had created, checking for any slight imperfections. Seeing none, she signaled for the wait staff to come grab the plates and left the kitchen just as the timer started to beep.

The guests were deep in conversation when Clarke entered the room to serve her food. She gingerly placed two plates in front of Tituss and stepped back, waiting to be called upon. 

Tituss looked down at the plates in front of him, arched a brown, and then gestured to Clarke, “You may proceed Ms. Griffin.”

Clarke nodded, taking a deep breath and clasping her hands in front of herself to calm her nerves. “What you have before you today is my interpretation of the beginning and the end of time.” She gestured to her first dish. “The Beginning was inspired by the Big Bang. From nothing, came light, a cacophony of colors and possibilities. For those sitting here in this room, that means the beginning of our own solar system, and that’s what you have before you today. Each planet is represented by an ingredient and preparation of that planet. For instance, Mars is a ruby red beat rubbed in a spice blend and then grilled. That one’s going to be hot, so watch out.”

Clarke smiled as the dinner guests laughed quietly at the prospect of eating Mars. She felt her confidence rise. “You’ll also notice that I’ve chosen to include Pluto in my solar system. It’s not technically a planet anymore, but I just don’t have the heart to leave it behind.”

“Survival of the biggest is the way planets work from what I hear,” Tituss quipped. “Pluto just didn’t have the stuff apparently.”

Clarke chuckled, shrugging “You may very well be right, Tituss. However, it’s my personal belief that maybe life should be about more than just surviving. That’s why I included Pluto. She’s my favorite and I couldn’t leave her behind.”

“Pluto is a woman?” Said Tom.

Padma rolled her eyes, “Come on, Tom. That’s pretty obvious. No man would ever stand being cut from the intergalactic roster that way.” She gestured to Clarke, “Please continue. Tell us about your second dish.”

Clarke nodded. “This dish represents the end. It was inspired by the last lines of a T.S. Eliot. He once wrote ‘This is the way the world ends, not with a bang but with a whimper.’ So that’s what you have in front of you today. The first dish represents the possibilities of each ingredient and the second represents their demise. Each ingredient is used again, but in a way that is counter to their nature. So, to use Mars as the example again, in this preparation the red planet has become green and frozen, instead of heat and spice, you’ll have a minty sweetness. It’s quite the juxtaposition. I hope you enjoy.”

Tituss hummed, turning the plates slowly in front of him. “I’m sure I will,” he said thoughtfully. “You’ve given me much to consider.”

XX

Lexa was in the middle of a heated conversation with Anya when Clarke walked into the stew room. She caught the eye of the other chef and motioned for her to join them. 

“Clarke, good,” Said Anya, crossing her arms. “Tell my cousin she’s a moron.”

Lexa rolled her eyes, “I am far from a moron. Clarke, tell Anya that I’m not a moron.”

“Raven?” Clarke called out over her shoulder. “What exactly did I just walk into and why does your girlfriend want me to call Lexa a moron?”

Raven paused braiding Octavia’s hair to wrinkle her nose in disgust. “Girlfriend? Gross. Anya may be the love of my life but she isn’t my girlfriend.”

“Yeah, Clarke,” agreed Anya. “I’m not her girlfriend.”

“Believe me, Clarke” Octavia chimed in. “You do not want to have this conversation with them. They gave me an hour long lecture about regressive labels last night. Apparently everything I say is wrong.”

Raven gently tugged Octavia’s head back to plant a playful kiss on her forehead. “Now you’re getting it, O! Just remember to remember that you’re always wrong and we’ll be fine.”

“Wait, you think calling someone your girlfriend is regressive?” Asked Clarke. “How?”

Anya blushed, “That’s not actually what we told Octavia. The conversation just turned into a talk about regressive labels.”

Lexa laughed, giving her cousin a playful punch on the arm. “I get it. You and Raven were dodging the question.”

“What question?” Said Octavia.

“THE question,” said Lexa. “the ‘what are we’ question. These two idiots have declared their love for each other but they haven’t figured out the rest. Come on, Anya. I expected more from you,” Lexa teased.

Anya huffed grumpily, “Not fair, Lexa. It’s not like you and Clarke have defined your relationship or Octavia and Lincoln have defined theirs.”

“Actually,” said Octavia, rising to her feet and pulling Raven up with her. “Lincoln and I have had THE talk as Lexa put it. Lincoln is officially my boyfriend.”

“What?!” Exclaimed Raven. “Anya, you let your cousin lock down a hot chick before you called dibs on me? Me?!”

Anya took a step back as the tiny Latina limped towards her. “Raven– I.”

Raven poked her in the chest. “No excuses, Anya. I love you. Are you in this?”

Anya paused.

“Anya!” 

Anya threw her hands up in the air, “What?! What do you want me to say? Of course I’m in this, Raven. God, I’m so in it hurts. But I don’t want to push you too fast. What? Like I’m supposed to tell you to leave your job, to come to San Francisco and move in with me? That we’ll figure it out? That I want to live happily ever after with you and have a whole mess of babies? Is that what you want?!”

“Yes, you idiot!” Screamed Raven into the now silent stew room.

“Wait, What?” Anya blinked. “Yes to what part?”

Raven laughed, throwing her hands behind Anya’s neck. “Yes to all of it. Yes to leaving Houston. Yes to moving in with you. Yes to a whole mess of kids one day. Yes, Anya. Yes to you, to us. Now shut up and kiss me before I’m forced to kill you.”

Anya leaned in to kiss her and then paused, “Umm, what about Monty and Jasper?”

Raven shrugged, “They’ll probably follow me to San Francisco. I figure it’s about time for Zero-G to become a franchise anyway.”

“Oh, God,” moaned Anya. “I’m never going to be rid of those two am I?”

Raven laughed, “not if you want me.”

Anya sighed, swinging Raven around in her arms. “I guess I can put up with two more morons in my life if it means I get to have you.”

Raven chuckled, “Seriously, Anya. Shut up and kiss me already.”

XX

Lexa fidgeted with her chef coat while she waited for the last light to be set and the judges to make their verdict. A light from the corner kept hitting her in the face, making her squint uncomfortably.

“You ok over there?” Clarke whispered.

She nodded. “I’m fine. I’m just ready to get out of this coat, and I want someone to move that bottle or whatever it is in the corner so that I can see. That light is killing me.”

“Poor baby,” Clarke teased. “Was it a rough night for you in the kitchen?”

Lexa shrugged.

Clarke turned more fully towards her, arms crossed. “Come on, Lexa. I know you’re upset about something. I wish you’d tell me what it is.”

Lexa dismisses her concern with a wave. “It’s nothing, Clarke. Just stuff with Anya.”

Clarke took a peek at the producers and tech crew. They didn’t seem to be making much headway with the lighting, so she snuck over to Lexa. She placed her hand gently on Lexa’s arm. “Tell me,” she pleaded.

Lexa sighed, rubbing her brow. “You’re not going to like it.”

Clarke crossed her arms in front of her chest. “How about you let me be the judge of that?”

Lexa nodded. She held out a hand and exhaled when Clarke uncrossed her arms to take it. She rubbed the palm lightly as she tried to figure out how to begin. “We were talking about what happens when one of us gets eliminated.”  
Clarke’s head tilted to the side in confusion. “Ok. Well, this is a competition. I guess that makes sense.”

“Yes. This is a competition, Clarke. But now- Now I feel like I have so much more to lose.”

Clarke reached out, stroking Lexa’s clenched jaw, offering support. “Why?”

Lexa chuckled, turning into the touch. She took a steadying breath, meeting Clarke’s eyes. “Because of you, niron.”

“Me? Lexa, that’s silly. We’re both in this competition. One of us, or both of us, could go home at any time.”

“I understand that, but I don’t want to be the reason that you go home. I don’t want to stand by your side and have the judges decide that you have to go and that I have to stay. I don’t want to compete against you, Clarke. I want to compete with you.”

Clarke laughed lightly, drawing Lexa in, wrapping her tight in her arms. “Well, I’m going to put aside the idea that you think I’m going home first because I definitely plan on kicking your cute ass in the finale.”

Lexa leaned back, studying Clarke’s face. “But what happens if I go home, Clarke? What happens to you? What happens to-” she paused.

“What happens to what, Lexa?”

Lexa took in a stuttering breath, “What happens to us?”

Clarke shrugged, “I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it.”

Lexa’s head jerked back in shock, “What?”

Clarke frowned in confusion, “I haven’t thought about it.”

Lexa pulled away from Clarke, needing some space. Clarke reached out for her but she turned away, hurt by Clarke’s confession. Had she been wrong? Was Clarke not traveling down the same path she was? Was this just fun for Clarke, a way to blow of steam during the competition? Lexa felt like the heart in her chest was being squeezed dry at the implication.

“So all of this has just been fun for you?” Lexa ground out.

Clarke licked her lips nervously, “No, of course not. I mean, yes, it was- it is fun, but that’s not what I-”  
“What am I to you, Clarke? I need to know.”

“Now?” said Clarke, gesturing around the room. 

Lexa nodded, “Yes, Clarke. What am I to you? What do you want from me?”

Clarke threw her hand up in frustration, “I don’t know, ok? I don’t know how to talk about how I feel about you. What am I to you?”

Lexa stopped, heart beating wildly. “I think you know, Clarke,” she whispered. She looked into Clarke’s eyes, searching for confirmation. “I think you know what you mean to me, niron.”

“Guys,” Raven interrupted. 

“What?” both women snapped.

Raven put up both hands, “Whoa, don’t shoot the messenger.” She hitched a thumb over her shoulder gesturing towards the judges’ table. “They’re ready for us. Ummm, whatever this thing is you’re doing. I think it’s going to have to wait.”

“We’ll be there in a second, Raven.” Clarke turned back to Lexa as Raven hobbled over to her place in front of the judges. “This isn’t fair.”

Lexa sighed, “I know it isn’t, but I need to know. I need to know what comes next. Please, Clarke.”

Clarke nodded, running her hands nervously through her hair. “Ok, I don’t know what you mean to me, Lexa.”

Lexa felt her face fall. This was it, Clarke was going to try and let her down easily. 

“I don’t know what you mean to me and I’ve been avoiding thinking about it because I’ve never felt this way. That scares me, Lexa. You scare me.”

“I-”

Clarke held up a finger, interrupting her, “You wanted this, now you have to listen.”

“Guys!” Raven yelled. 

“One second, Raven!” Clarke yelled back. “I’m trying to figure out how to tell this moron that I think I’m falling in love with her.”

Raven’s mouth dropped, “Oh, ok. Carry on.”

Lexa felt her eyes begin to water, “You’re falling in love with me?”

Clarke rolled her eyes, “Yes, you idiot. But now I’m mad at you for dragging it out of me. I wasn’t ready for this, Lexa. I wasn’t ready for you. And I just- I need some time ok? Can we talk after the judges’ table?”

“Sure, niron. That’s fine.” Lexa watched Clarke turn and stride over to her place beside Raven. She knew that the other chef was mad at her for putting her on the spot, but Lexa couldn’t help the stupid grin spreading across her face. Clarke Griffin was falling in love with her. Lexa took her place in the line-up of chefs next to Anya.

“What was all that about?” her cousin asked.

Lexa smiled at Anya, “Clarke thinks she’s falling in love with me.”

Anya looked around Lexa and over at Clarke who was talking quietly but forcefully with Raven, making sharp hand gestures in Lexa’s direction. “You sure? She looks pissed.”

Lexa sighed happily, “She really is. It’s fine though. I’ll talk to her later.”

“If she doesn’t kill you, you mean.” Chuckled Anya. 

The doors to the Top Chef Kitchen opened, and the chef’s watched as the judges walked in and took their seats. Tituss took his seat at the end of the table with a flourish, tossing his tiny, purple cape over his shoulder.

“I hear you’ve all been making declarations of love in my absence,” he called out.

“Come on now, Tituss,” Said Tom. “Leave the ladies alone. We all know you’re just jealous that no one has declared their love to you tonight.”

Tituss pursed his lips, clicking his tongue. “True. A diva loves to be worshipped and this diva won’t deny it. Carry on, I suppose. We’ve got compliments to give and spirits to crush.”

“Thank you for that dramatic introduction, Tituss,” said Padma. “As our esteemed guest mentioned, we did have a wide array of spectacular culinary delights this evening. One chef will be winning a RAV4 furnished by Toyota, a long-time sponsor of Top Chef and the maker of high-quality, dependable cars, and we will also have to send one chef home tonight.”

“I’d like to start by saying that I truly enjoyed each of your dishes tonight,” said Gail. “Each dish was conceptualized well and I think most were executed to perfection. There were a few items here and there that needed tweaking, but overall, I’d be happy to eat any of these dishes again at your restaurants. Spectacular job tonight.”

“Indeed,” quipped Tituss. “If your food hadn’t wowed my guest and ensured that my party would be the talk of the town, I would be jealous about sharing the spotlight. Well, who am I kidding? I’m absolutely jealous about sharing the spotlight with you and your scrumptious food, but I hear envy is good for the skin so I intend to bathe in it this evening. Eat your hearts out, chefs.”

Tom stared for a moment and then continued, “Thank you for that - description. Chefs, I’d have to agree. The food was, in a word, phenomenal, this evening. I can’t say that I’m envious though because one of you will be going home.” Tom looked at Tituss, eyes twinkling, “i suppose my skin is just going to have to suffer.”

Tituss leaned over the table to glare at Tom, “Like you need the help, Chef Tom. Your skin is as smooth as a baby’s bottom. I would kill for your skin. Kill!”

Padma laughed, patting Tituss on the back, “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Would you like to announce the winner of tonight’s challenge?”

“Of course!” Tituss turned to the chefs, taking a moment to get into character by taking a few deep breaths. “The chef that won over the crowd this evening took us on an intergalactic journey. There were highs, and lows because any ending is a low in my book,” he paused for dramatic effect. “But mostly, the food was delicious. My favorite this evening, and the favorite of all of my guests was, Clarke.” Tituss dangled a set of silver car keys in front of the chefs. “Come and collect your prize, Ms. Griffin. Oh, and I put an autographed headshot of myself in the passenger seat for you to remember me by.”

Clarke walked up to Tituss and accepted her prize, shaking the hands of the other judges. She was all smiles when she turned to face the other contestants. Her smile faltered some when she saw Lexa, and she frowned as if on command. 

“She still looks pretty pissed, Heda,” Anya whispered. 

“Thank you for the wry observation, cousin.” Lexa mumbled. 

Tituss cleared his throat lousy, “Ladies, May we continue?”

“Yes, Tituss. Sorry.” Said Lexa.

“It’s quite alright, Lexa” Tom assured them. “I don’t think any of us are looking forward to this next bit.”

“I’m certainly not,” said Gail. 

“We do what we must though,” said Padma. “The show must go on.”

“Here, here!” Agreed Tituss.

“Chefs,” Tom began. “I don’t think it’s a lie to say that the judges and I have come to respect you all a great deal over the course of this competition. You’ve all grown together in a way that I’ve never seen on Top Chef before. You’ve made the Crew vs Crew season one to remember because of your fondness for each other.”

“But that fondness can sometimes be a liability,” added Tituss. “Sometimes a pretty face can distract a warrior in the kitchen from the end goal, to win, to survive.”

“That’s true enough, I suppose,” said Gail. “But I have often found that new emotions bring new life to cooking and experiences. That chefs thrive in that environment and create some of their best work.”

Tituss turned back to the chefs, “Anya and Lexa, please step forward.”

Lexa stared, horrified that it was coming down to this. That it would be her or her cousin going home this evening. She took a deep breath and took a step forward with her cousin, hands behind her back, chin up. She was proud to see Anya mimicking her pose next to her. If they were to be eliminated this evening, they would be eliminated with their pride and honor intact. It was a worthy death in such a brutal competition. She didn’t turn to look at Clarke, afraid that any sign of emotion would ruin her composure. She needed the Commander now. Lexa could wait.

“This is the hardest decision I’ve ever been a part of on Top Chef,” said Padma. “It rips me in two that you’re both so talented and yet we must send one of you home.”

Tom picked up where Padma left off, “In the end, we had to make a decision based on the smallest of mistakes. The level of execution was that high. Padma, will you please tell us who is going home tonight and who is staying?”

Padma nodded.

Lexa held her breath.

“Anya,” Padma paused. “You’re safe this evening.”

Lexa felt the air whoosh out of her lungs, there was a loud ringing in her ears, but even that didn’t drown out Padma’s words. “Lexa, please pack your knives and go.”

Lexa was in a daze. She nodded to the judges, mumbled a few words about what an honor it had been and then began to walk out of the kitchen. She had just reached the door when she heard Clarke call her name. 

“Lexa!”

She turned and Clarke’s body crashed into hers. Lexa felt the shock begin to leave her body and she realized Clarked was crying. “Hey now, niron,” she said wiping away a stray tear. “No crying over this. We both knew this was a possibility.”

Clarke sniffed, nodding as she wiped away her tears. “I know, I know. I just didn’t expect it to be tonight! I wasn’t ready.” Clarke’s eyes narrowed, and she grabbed Lexa’s coat, pulling her in close. “You had better win Last Chance Kitchen, Lexa Woods. Do you hear me? I’m not done being mad at you from before and it’s no good being mad at you if you aren’t here. So come back to me, ok?”

Lexa smiled down at the other chef, taking in her messy hair, tear stained face, and crystal blue eyes. Even tired, and angry, and all kinds of ticked off, Clarke Griffin was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. “Yes, Clarke. I will do my best to come back to you, but please don’t be disappointed if someone else walks through that door in a few days.”

Clarke shook her head, “Unacceptable. I don’t want someone else, I want you. Remember that.” Clarke reached up dragging Lexa’s head down for a hard kiss. When she leaned back, she shoved Lexa away playfully, “Now get out of here, Commander. You’ve got a competition to win. I'll be waiting for you. We have a fight to finish”

 

—————————————————————  
Episode 9: The Beginning of the End  
Challenge Winner: Clarke  
Eliminated: Lexa  
Contestants Remaining: 4  
—————————————————————

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A reader asked for a win tally for the competition so far. I've provided it below.
> 
> Quickfire wins:  
> Clarke:2  
> Anya: 1  
> Lexa: 1  
> Lincoln: 1  
> Raven: 1  
> Roan: 1
> 
> Challenge Wins:  
> Clarke: 4  
> Lexa: 2  
> Emori/Murphy: 1  
> Lincoln: 1  
> Ontari: 1


	29. Last Chance Kitchen Finale: Lexa vs ?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two chefs do battle in the Last Chance Kitchen Finale.

Lexa took a deep breath, centering herself. Her hand shook slightly as she checked the buttons on her chef coat and smoothed her hair down. There was only one thought running through her mind. Clarke. It had been two days since her elimination and she could only think about one thing.

She had to get back to Clarke. She had to win Last Chance Kitchen. She had to destroy whoever it was waiting for her on the other side of this door. Being eliminated now was not an option.

Because Clarke Griffin was falling in love with her. Lexa let out a choked laugh. God, they had horrible timing. Lexa hadn’t even been given enough time to tell Clarke that she felt the same way before she was eliminated. Top Chef was not a competition for the emotionally weak. 

Lexa could hear the other eliminated chefs talking animatedly on the other side of the door. Chef Tom was asking them about their personal predictions on which chef was most likely to face off against the Last Chance Kitchen defending champion. Lexa could barely hear the other chefs but she heard Octavia and Anya’s names thrown around a few times as likely elimination candidates.

One of the production assistants spoke quietly into his head mic and then waved her into the kitchen. Lexa stepped through the dramatic double doors and watched the room fall silent. “It’s the commander!” Someone gasped. The spell of silence was broken as she took her place beside Chef Tom, replaced with quiet murmurs of disbelief. Roan stood on the other side of Tom and he gave Lexa a quick nod of respect before straightening his shoulders and turning to face forward.

“I can see that you are all a little surprised to see Lexa joining us this evening.” Said Tom, gesturing for the eliminated chefs to settle down.

“No shit, Tom,” hollered Jasper. “I’m out twenty dollars!”

Bellamy reached his hand out and Jasper begrudgingly dug a bill out of his pants pockets and slapped it in the outstretched hand. 

Tom laughed, “Bellamy, I see that you bet against Lexa here. Can I ask why?”

Bellamy shrugged, “I didn’t bet against her so much as I bet on Clarke. Clarke’s the most talented chef I’ve ever met and she’s only going to get better. So, sorry Commander, my money is on her to win.”

Lexa smiled, nodding at Clarke’s second in command. “Your confidence is well earned Boy Blake.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes, “Can I at least be Man Blake?”

Lexa smiled, “We’ll see. I’d also like to add that Octavia has also been performing very well. She’s even found time to take up weapons training with Anya.” Lexa saw Lincoln burst into a smile across the room. Octavia’s acceptance of their culture meant more to him than he would probably ever admit, especially since she was learning more without his steady presence in her life.

“She has been performing admirably,” Tom agreed. “Honestly, Lexa’s last dish was very, very good. She’s won more challenges than every other contestant except for one. She’s also rarely been on the bottom. I’m looking forward to tonight’s challenge since both Roan and Lexa are more than eager to return to the competition.”

“This is true,” Roan confirmed. “It will be an honor to battle against Heda. Sadly, I will have to send her home.”

A chorus of “oooooohs” rumbled through the kitchen and Lexa smirked, folding her arms. “You can do your best Roan, but I plan on being victorious this evening.” Lexa thought of Clarke, her smile, the way she curled into Lexa’s warm form early in the morning, the way she smiled and Lexa’s heart lept. “People are waiting for me as is the rest of the competition.”

“Well then,” said Tom. “Let’s not delay this any longer. Because of your shared heritage the production team has put together a special challenge for you. It’s our understanding that disputes between the people of Polis and Azgeda were traditionally settled via sword fight.”

Lexa nodded, shrugging. “That’s true enough, and I’m happy to do physical battle with Roan, but I imagine that’s not what you have in mind.”

Tom grinned, rubbing his hands together, “Indeed, you are correct. I actually did ask out insurance company if we could have you two give us a demonstration but apparently that was too great a liability as it appears Roan has actually been stabbed a number of times.”

Lexa’s eyebrow raised slightly.

Roan shrugged nonchalantly, “Training with Ontari always was unusually dangerous.”

Lexa shook her head, chuckling. “I’m sure it was. Hopefully today no blood will be drawn.”

“We can only hope,” said Tom. “Chefs, please take your positions behind your workstations.

Lexa walked over to her table, noting the cover on top of it. Whatever was underneath was on ice because she could feel the cold air radiating out from underneath the cloth. Her mind whirled with possibilities. The ice meant that any special ingredient had to be a protein. Vegetables wouldn’t need to be chilled and neither would grains or fruits. Even poultry or beef wouldn’t need to be iced for an event like this. Lexa smiled, leaning over cover and sniffing. Catching a sharp, distinct odor, she smiled, leaning back confidently. She reached around, cracking her knuckles and stretching her neck. This was officially her competition to win.

Tom explained the rules. They would have forty minutes to prepare a dish using the mystery ingredient. Except for salt, pepper, and oil, Roan and Lexa couldn’t use any of the same ingredients. Lexa began formulating a plan in her head. She’d need to be quick. She took in Roan’s lanky frame next her. He looked fast. She was just going to have to be faster.

Tom sets the digital clock hanging above the kitchen, looks at the two chefs and yells, “Go!”

Lexa bolts for the pantry without uncovering her table. She hears Roan yell in surprise at her abrupt departure, but it’s too late. Lexa is gone. 

“It’s swordfish!” She hears Echo yelled excitedly from the pantry, and Lexa breaks into a smile. She’d known it was fish, but thanks to Echo, she now knew what kind. Lexa grabbed a basket and loaded up on spices she would need, citrus, onion, and a few other pantry items. Getting her hands on some of the major staples of cooking, and removing Roan’s ability to use them, would put her at a huge advantage in this particular challenge. Grabbing one last clove of garlic, she headed back to her station.

Roan was jogging his way into the pantry. He looked down into her basket and scowled. “ or going to make this easy on me, are you?”

Lexa leaned up, giving the much taller man a playful peck on the cheek. “You’re a good man, Roan kom Azgeda. It’s a shame I have to destroy you now.”

Roan laughed, shaking his head. “I don’t plan on going down without a fight, Heda!” He called as Lexa reached her workstation, pulling the cloth off to reveal a perfect swordfish.

She looked up, catching the glint in his eye, “I expect nothing less,” she called back. Lexa unsheathed her knives, preparing to slice into the fish, her eyes like steel. “Let’s get to work.”

XX

Lexa wiped her brow as she flipped her swordfish filet over on the grill, admiring the spice rub and the way the flames made the fish hiss. Things were going well so far. She looked over to where Roan was adding lime juice to a vinaigrette. Lemon would have probably been better, she thought, smirking. Too bad she’d taken all of the lemons.

Sensing that the fish was done, Lexa pulled the filet off of the grill and carried it back to her workstation. She began to plate her dish, mindful of the clock slowly counting down the final moments of the competition. Lexa was fully focused on only one thing, her dish. 

She’d never used this technique on swordfish before but had seen a sketch of a similar dish in Clarke’s notebook. Lexa was using that dish as inspiration and making it her own, blending her style with Clarke’s, creating something new and unique. She was thrilled with the results. Lexa wiped the edges of the plate, admiring the bright colors of the dish and the perfectly cooked piece of fish placed lovingly on a bed of spiraling vegetables in a delicate tomato broth. 

“Time!” Yelled Tom.

Lexa held her hands up, stepping back from her dish. She waited for Tom to taste both dishes, answering a few questions about how the dish had come together.

Once the dishes had been fully evaluated, Tom moved to the center of the kitchen. “You know,” he began. “I’ve always been a fan of Last Chance Kitchen. It gives chefs a chance to right a wrong, to earn their place, and sometimes it helps us fix a mistake made at the judges’ table.” Tom look pointedly at Lexa. 

“Tonight is no different,” he continued. “Lexa, not only did you prepare an excellent dish, but you also served Roan a nasty surprise by beating him to the pantry and taking the best ingredients for yourself.”

Lexa shrugged, “Tonight was not a night for meekness. I intend to return to the competition and the best way to do that is to be calculated.”

“Roan? Anything to say about Lexa’s approach?”

Roan laughed good naturedly, “Honestly, I wish I had been as clever. It never even occurred to me that the ingredient not being kept a secret could hold more value than what was underneath the drop cloth. That kind of cunningness is why Lexa is called the Commander. The Commander can be ruthless at times, but Lexa never fails to be kind.” Roan chuckled, “It was undoubtedly that side of her personality that allowed me to steal a few cloves of garlic in the last few minutes of the competition.

Lexa smiled, “Even my ruthlessness has limits, my friend. Plus, I hate to see you suffer needlessly. Hopefully your dish turned out as you intended.”

Roan shook his head, chuckling to himself. “I did the best that I could given the circumstances. You were a worthy competitor, Heda.”

“May we meet again?” Asked Lexa.

Roan leaned over his work station to clasp Lexa’s forearm, “Sha, Heda. May we meet again.”

Tom coughed, “Sorry to break things up, but it appears that you all have decided among the two of you who has won this thing. I’ll have you know, that’s my job.” Tom grinned.

Lexa smiled, “Sorry, Chef. What is your decision? Who has won Last Chance Kitchen?”

Tom rolled his eyes heavenward, “Well, I guess there’s no point in dragging this out any longer. You both performed admirably, but one dish was clearly superior. It gives me great pride to say,” Tom paused. “Roan, you’ve won Last Chance Kitchen!”

Lexa’s stomach dropped, her smile melting away as a silence overtook the kitchen. She saw Roan sputtering in shock next to her.

Tom smirked mischievously. “I’m kidding! Lexa, you’ve won, obviously,” he chuckled. “I just can’t have you all stealing my thunder.

Lexa laughed nervously, “Your serious, now? I’ve actually won? I get to return to the main competition?”

Tom nodded, “Yep, and I’m sending you with a little present.” Tom reached into his pocket, pulling out a well worn and well loved wrist watch. “I heard someone’s been looking for this.”

Lexa walked over to Tom in a daze, reaching out for the watch. Her hand curled around the smooth face. Her eyes glistened as she looked at him. “Why not give this to her yourself? Surely you know how much this means to her?”

Tom shrugged, blushing a little. “Call me a sentimental romantic, but I think it may mean more coming from you.” 

Tom looked at Lexa and she saw a kindness in his eyes that felt overwhelming. She couldn’t help herself and reached out to throw her arms around him in a tight hug. “Thank you. Thank you so much,” she mumbled into his crisp shirt.

His hand awkwardly patted her on the back as he coughed, “You’ve done well here, Lexa. I look forward to seeing what you do next.”

Lexa nodded, stepping back and reclaiming her position next to Roan. She wiped away a stray tear from her eye and delicately clasped Clarke’s father’s watch on her own wrist. “We’re coming for you, Clarke.” She whispered. “Wait for us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Roan and I love Tom even if he does have a twisted sense of humor. Good dudes.


	30. Episode 10: Blast from the Past (Quickfire)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who here thought I had abandoned this fic? Hahahaha. Never! 
> 
> As Octavia once said “We’re back bitches!!!”
> 
> Let’s finish this thing!
> 
> In this chapter our Chefs face of in a slippery Quickfire. It’s a shucking good time. After the Quickfire is over they are reunited with some people from their past and a new challenge emerges.

Clarke tossed and turned in her bed. She couldn’t seem to fall asleep. Over the last six weeks she’d grown used to sharing the bed with Lexa. She missed curling into her warm body, the way Lexa always pulled Clarke closer right before she began to wake up, the way Lexa’s green eyes slowly opened to look at Clarke. Early morning Lexa didn’t have a lot to say. Clarke might actually call her a bit of a whiny grump, but those first moments in bed, Clarke loved to watch Lexa’s eyes widen as if in shock that Clarke was still there with her. As if this whole thing had been a dream. 

And maybe it had been. Lexa was gone and Clarke didn’t know if she was coming back. With a defeated sigh, Clarke threw the covers off and made her way to the kitchen downstairs. If she couldn’t sleep, then by God she could cook.

Clarke turned the corner into the kitchen and came to a halt when she saw that it was already occupied. “You’re all up?” Anya, Octavia, and Raven were all standing around the island talking quietly. 

Anya shrugged at Clarke’s question, “It would appear that none of us could sleep.”

Raven took a sip from a steaming coffee mug, “I think we’re all a little rattled by Lexa’s leaving.”

“Tell me about it,” Octavia frowned into her own mug. “I was sure it was going to be me. I saw the dish that Lexa put out, and I know mine wasn’t better. I think that guy, Tituss, has it out for her.”

Clarke clucked her tongue, walking over to place a comforting hand on Octavia’s arm. “There’s no way you can know that, O. Especially since none of us tasted the dishes that went out. I know that we’re all sad that Lexa went home, but I for one am hoping she comes back.”

Raven arched a brow, “Think your girl is going to take it all in Last Chance Kitchen, Griffin?”

Clarke felt her cheeks heat, “She’s not my girl, Raven. But, yes, I do think she’s going to win.”

Raven rolled her eyes, leaning into Anya’s side. “Not your girl, my ass. You’re crazy about her and I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”

“Tell me about it,” Octavia chimed in. “At least Lincoln and I tried to keep our hormones confined to the bedroom. Walking into a room with you two staring longingly at each other makes me want to puke.”

“Thanks, O” said Clarke, hand on her hip. “Good to know that I can always count on you to support my relationships.”

Raven perked up, pointing an accusing finger at Clarke, “Ha! So you admit it! You and the Commander are in a relationship.”

“Anya,” Clarke pleaded. “A little help here?”

Anya shook her head, “No thanks. I’d very much like to hear your answer. What are your intentions with my cousin, Clarke?”

“My intentions? What is this, 1925?!”

Anya shrugged. “We have always been a little old fashioned in my culture. Declaring yourself for someone is considered very honorable.”

Clarke blinked in surprise. “And you want me to declare myself for Lexa?”

Anya shook her head, “I want you to decide what you want from her. She will never ask anything of you, Clarke. She won’t feel that she has the right.”

Clarke crossed her arms, “She seemed fine backing me into a corner to make me confess how I feel.”

Anya waved her comment off, “That’s different. Those are only feelings. What I’m talking about is what comes after feelings. What’s next?”

“I don’t know!” Clarke threw her hands up in frustration. “I didn’t come here for this. I didn’t come here for her!”

“And yet, you found her.” Anya said quietly. “You found each other.” 

Octavia sighed, taking Clarke’s hand and pulling the other chef into her side. “It’s ok to be scared, Clarke. You think I came here looking for Lincoln? I mean, the guy is a stone cold fox, but I didn’t come here looking to fall in love.”

Clarke let out a quiet gasp, “You love him? But it’s only been a few weeks.”

Octavia smiled, tucking a tendril of hair behind her ear. “I think I do,” she said. Octavia looked up, catching Clarke’s eyes. She looked over at Anya and Raven, curled into each other and sighed, taking a drink from her cup. “God,” she groaned. “I definitely do. And I miss him.”

Anya’s arms curled tightly around Raven, “I miss him too.”

Raven leaned up, kissing the sharp edge of Anya’s jaw. “We’ll see everyone when this is all over.”

Anya nodded refocusing her attention on Clarke. “I believe that we may be seeing Lexa sooner rather than later. She would do just about anything to make her way back to you.”

Clarke sighed, picking at a piece of fuzz on her shirt. “And I want her to come back to the competition.”

Anya tilted her head, cutting Clarke down with a look. “Just to the competition?”

Clarke ran her fingers through her hair in frustration. “Fine! I want her to come back to me too, ok? In fact, screw the competition, I just want her back.” Clarke’s eyes widened, hand flying to her mouth at her admission. 

Anya’s grin widened. “See, that’s all I wanted to hear. Tell Lexa that when you see her. But Clarke, I warn you now… I love my cousin. She is the strongest person I know, but she is weak where you are concerned. Do not let her fall if you do not intend to be there to catch her.”

Clarke scowled, crossing her arms. “You act like Lexa is a damsel in distress. Well, she’s not. She’s a grown woman.”

Anya nodded, “This is true, Clarke. Lexa is no damsel. She can take care of herself. However, sometimes even heroes need another hero to save them from time-to-time. I guess my question is this – are you that hero? Would you be willing to sacrifice yourself for her if it came down to it?”

XX

Clarke grumbled as Padma explained the Quickfire challenge. She was in a decidedly bad mood. Anya’s nagging had gotten under her skin to the point where she’d barely gotten any sleep the night before. They still didn’t know the results of Last Chance Kitchen. Clarke still didn’t know if it would be Lexa who walked through that door and it was eating away at her. It had to be Lexa. It had to be.

And now she was going to have to shuck oysters. Clarke hated shucking oysters. Padma explained the rules of the competition, first person to shuck twenty oysters would win an advantage in the elimination challenge. Clarke knew she was fast enough to make it a race, but if Raven’s joyous shout and clapping were any indication, she was going to have a fight on her hands.

“Go!” Yelled Padma, snapping Clarke out of her own head. She reached for her shucking knife and the first oyster. Her plan was to open them all and then start cleaning. She held the oyster in place with her dish towel and slid the shucking knife into the seam, juggling until it slid in, then she twisted the knife and pulled up, smiling as the oyster opened with a satisfying pop. Apparently she wasn’t as rusty as she had feared.

Anya grunted beside her, struggling to coax the tough shell open to expose the meat inside. “It had to be freaking oysters,” Clarke heard Anya muttering under her breath. “Stupid freaking ocean boogers. I hate these damn things.”

Clarke chuckled quietly. At least Anya wasn’t going to be a threat in the race. She took a minute to look up and see how Octavia and Raven were fairing in the race. Raven appeared to be neck and neck with Clarke, but it was Octavia who surprised her.

Octavia was hunched over her oysters, obviously in the zone, and was flying through them from all appearances. Clarke could see that her teammate was already close to being done and Clarke felt a bubble of happiness swell inside of her.

She’d been so caught up in her own competition that she had failed to notice how far Octavia had progressed in the last several weeks. Octavia had always been a good chef, but this competition had brought out the best in her and Clarke suspected that Octavia now understood what Clarke had always known… she had the potential to become a truly great chef. 

Her own oysters forgotten, Clarke watched Octavia finish shucking the last oyster in her bucket and yell, “time!” excitedly. Padma came over, checked the oysters and declared Octavia the winner. Octavia beamed with pride.

“Way to go, O,” said Clarke, enveloping her in a tight hug. 

“Thanks, Clarke,” said Octavia, giving her a quick squeeze.

“Yes,” interrupted Padma. “Congratulations are certainly in order. In addition to winning the Quickfire, you’ve also won an advantage in the next elimination round.”

Octavia shrugged, “To be perfectly honest, I’d rather win a car but I guess an advantage will do.”

Padma grimes mischievously, “Well, while a car is not up for grabs this elimination round, I have a sneaking suspicion that you’ll like your advantage quite a bit. First though, a little about the challenge.”

Padma smoothed her hands down her dress and then pointed a table being rolled in with cook books on it. “Chefs, we are living in an age of culinary refinement and creativity. We have more resources than ever before and as such we are allowed to stretch the boundaries of what has been done before and potential mistakes from our culinary pasts. With that in mind, I’ve got several cookbooks here each opened to a page that Tom and I consider a culinary mistake. You’ll each draw knives to see which dish you’ll be serving.”

Padma pointed to a knife block where five knives were waiting. “As you can see, a fifth knife is in the block for the winner of Last Chance Kitchen. He or she will be joining us tomorrow at the competition to reclaim their place in the show and the opportunity to, once again, compete for the title of Top Chef.”

Padma turned to Octavia, “Ready for your advantage?”

Octavia nodded.

“Bring ‘em out!” Padma called over her shoulder. Clarke watched as the eliminated chefs walked back into the kitchen. Everyone participating in Last Chance Kitchen was present except for Lexa and Roan.

“Lexa and Roan will be joining us tomorrow as the winner of Last Chance Kitchen is revealed. But seeing as this episode is called ‘Blast from the Past’ I thought you all might appreciate a little help from your past competitors. Octavia, because you won the schucking race, you get to pick first.”

“Yes!” Octavia pumped her fist in the air.

Padma laughed, “See, I told you that you’d enjoy the reward for this Quickfire.”

“I’ll never doubt you again, Padma. You’re my goddess.” Squealed Octavia. 

Clarke chuckled at Octavia’s obvious glee. She tried to tamp down her own disappointment at not being able to see Lexa and instead focused on how happy her friend was.

“So,” said Padma. “How about we get down to it? We’ll go in order of who had the most oysters shucked when Octavia won, so that means we’ll have Octavia first, Raven second, Clarke going third, and Anya will go last.”

“Still suck at oysters, sis?” Teased Lincoln.

Anya grumbled, shooting her brother the bird.

Padma feigned horror, “Easy with the hand gestures, Anya. We’re going to have to edit that out.”

Anya shrugged, “Sorry, not sorry.”

Padma clapped her hands together, “So let’s get started! Who do you pick, Octavia?”

Octavia beamed, “You know i've got to pick the best guy here! Get over here, Lincoln!”

“Hey!” Said Bellamy. “Trying not to be offended over here, O!”

Octavia smiled as Lincoln picked her up and twirled her around. “Sorry, bro. You know I had to.”

“You’re up, Raven.” Said Padma.

Raven looked over the chefs and pointed at Monty and Jasper, “Which one of you two knuckleheads is ready to have some fun?”

Monty and Jasper leaned in whispering to each other. Appearing to reach a consensus, they straightened up. “You know I’m always up for a good time, boss” said Jasper. “But we both know that Monty is who you really need.”

Monty smiled shyly, “I’m yours if you’ll have me.”

Raven opened her arms, “Get over here you goof.” Monty rolled his eyes but allowed himself to be pulled into Raven’s embrace.

“You’re up, Clarke,” said Padma.

Clarke looked over at Bellamy and grinned. “Up for an adventure, Blake?”

Bellamy smiled, “I guess I could be persuaded,” he laughed as he took his place beside Clarke. Clarke hooked her arm through his, giving him a playful nudge. “I’ve missed you, dummy.”

He smiled down at her, “Me too. I hear we have a lot to talk about. Especially about a green eyed chef with a penchant for smoldering looks and killer knife skills.”

Clarke blushed, “Yes, I guess you heard about me and Lexa.”

Bellamy grinned at her, “I think everyone has heard about you and Lexa, Clarke. You should have seen her at Last Chance Kitchen. I’ve never seen anyone fight so hard.”

Clarke swallowed, “Bell, did she…”

“Ready to make your selection, Anya?” Padma interrupted giving Clarke a pointed look.

Clarke growled under her breath. Apparently there was to be no mention of Last Chance Kitchen and the final results.

Anya nodded and started walking in front of the remaining chefs as if embodying the General She was trained to be as a child. These were her troops and they were under inspection.

Clarke laughed as she watched Jasper gulp and straighten his shoulders. Anya smirked. Echo met Anya’s eyes cooly, each of them acknowledging each other with the cool respect of a trusted second-in-command. Maya stood at the end of the line, shoulders back, chin lifted high. Clarke remembered her as a nervous, fidgety chef but it looked like Maya had some new confidence in her. 

Anya returned to her position next to Clarke and looked at Padma. “I have made my selection.”

“Ummm.. good.” Said Padma. “Who is it?”

“I have chosen the chef whose skills I believe will most compliment my own. A chef who, though a bit green, has earned her place among us. I choose Maya.”

Maya’s face broke into a smile. She gave Jasper a brief hug and then took her place next to Anya. “I won’t let you down,” she said seriously.

Anya looked down at her and smiled, “I suspect that you will not, but we’ve got a battle on our hands now. We must prepare for all our war.”

“Geez. Lighten up will ya, babe” said Raven. “It’s just a competition.”

Anya’s head snapped up, eyes narrowing. “It May be only a competition, Raven, but it is a competition I intend to win.”

Bellamy leaned down, whispering in Clarke’s ear, “I’m not sure if I should be scared or turned on by her.”

Clarke laughed, “Scared, Bell. Definitely scared. But we’re still going to kick her ass.”


	31. Blast From the Past (Competition Prep)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three years ago we lost our beloved Commander. Today, she returns to us ready to kick some Top Chef butt. 
> 
> The Clexa reunion we all need and deserve.
> 
> Almost no plot in this chapter. We’ll get to that next time.

Clarke leaned over a bowl of room temperature water with a pipette bag and slowly squeezed until a perfect orb of orange gelatin emerged. She let the gelatin form at the tip and then let it carefully let it fall into the bowl of water. Clarke wipes her brow, laid the pipette bag down at the table and then crouched at counter height. “Come on. Come on. Come on,” she muttered to herself. The orb held its shape for about thirty seconds before disintegrating into the water.

“Damn,” Clarke slapped her hand on the table. “Why isn’t this working?” She muttered, running her hand through her hair in frustration. She wished Lexa was here.

She’d been working on her dish for the competition all evening but wasn’t having any luck with some of the more technical aspects. The component she was currently working on had been inspired by a story Lexa had told her one night in their window seat. And now she couldn’t pull it off.

Clarke shoved the offending bowl of water into the sink, watching her handiwork slide down the drain. She gripped the lip, a tightness in her chest threatening to overwhelm her. She laughed in frustration as a tear rolled down her cheek. 

She wiped it away in frustration. When had she become this person? Who cried over a science experiment gone wrong, who clutched a cool pillow to her chest because the scent of vanilla and citrus lingered? Was this love?

Clarke turned away from the sink to look out at the big Texas sky, peppered with stars. A full moon shone bright, reflected in the still pool, and flitting across the grass. She opened the door to the patio and let the humidity engulf her. The heat felt good against her chilled skin and she shivered in relief as she walked along the edge of the pool.

The tightness returned to her chest as she remembered Lexa reading to her so many weeks ago. She had to come back.

She had to.

XX

The kitchen was already in full swing when Lexa arrived. Her only advantage being the winner of Last Chance Kitchen was that she got to cook last. She’d prepped her dish the night before and was confident she could execute it today. 

She was here to win. And she was here for Clarke.

She scanned the kitchen for a familiar mop of blonde hair and was disappointed not to see it.

“She’s in the walk-in freezer,” said Octavia, wrapping her in a warm hug.

Lexa smiled as she pulled back from the young chef. “Good to see you, O. Who is in the walk-in?”

Octavia rolled her eyes, “Oh, come off it Commander heart eyes. You walked into this kitchen looking fine as hell, I swear you Woods cousins are like genetic mutants.”

Lexa laughed, “Thanks, I think.”

Octavia waved her off, “Like I said, you came in here and instead of looking for a clean workspace you immediately started looking for our girl. Am I right?”

Lexa blushed, pushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “How is she?”

“Gotta be honest… she’s been better. Try not to go home again, ok?”

Lexa nodded, “I’ll do my best.”

“Good.” Octavia waves her knife towards the freezer. “Now go get her, Commander. She’s been waiting a long time for you.”

XX

“I think it’s time to call it, Clarke” Bellamy sighed. They were leaned over a mold, trying to inject the colored orbs into their quickly cooling dish.

“No, I can make it, Bell. Just give me a minute.”

Bellamy shook his head. “I don’t know. I think too much time has passed. You’d need to be surgically precise to get them all in in time and to get it to set.”

Clarke blew a piece of hair out of her eyes. “Well, if ever there was a time to channel my mother it’s now. So either help me or get out.”

Bellamy laughed, “You know, you’re really starting to make me think that the other chefs were on to something when they named you Wanheda. You’re scary.”

Clarke shoved him playfully. “You watch your mouth, Bellamy Blake, or I’ll show you how scary I really am. She paused, grinning at him before breaking into laughter.

Clarke put her syringe down and pulled him in for a hug, squeezing him tight. “I really missed you, you asshole.”

He returned her squeeze, “Me too.” They pulled apart and looked down at their mold which was starting to solidify. “I hate this challenge.”

Clarke chuckled, “You have NO idea.” She was mid laugh when she heard the freezer handle pop open signifying they weren’t alone anymore. She shivered. Being in the freezer for more than five minutes was beginning to number her hands and toes.

The plastic divider parted and Lexa walked through. Clarke gasped, a puff of moisture visible as it left her cold lips. “Lexa,” she breathed. 

Bellamy smiled, “I’ll see you back out there, Clarke. Don’t be too long.”

Clarke barely heard him. Lexa was here.

XX

Lexa drank her in. Her smile. The way Clarke said her name. Her heart hammered inside her chest.

Bellamy walked by her, giving her a quick nod.

“Boy Blake,” she responded as he left the freezer.

She took a step forward slowly. She wanted to run, to fling her entire self towards Clarke’s warmth, but she wasn’t sure how much was too much. She was sure of her feeling for Clarke, but did Clarke feel the same.

She held Clarke’s gaze and saw her eyes begin to swim with tears. Closing the distance between them, Lexa cupped Clarke’s cheek, wiping away a few cool drops of moisture.

Clarke presses into her touch, lightly kissing her palm. “You’re back,” she whispered. “Thank god.”

And then Clarke pulled her in, crushing her mouth to hers, hands skimming across Lexa’s body as if checking to make sure she was still there. Clarke broke the kiss, burying her head in the crook of Lexa’s neck, quietly chanting “you’re back. You’re back. You’re back” in between whisper light kisses.

Lexa smiled into Clarke’s hair, drinking in her radiance. “I’m back, niron. Did you think you’d be rid of me that easily?” She kissed the top of Clarke’s head, smoothing down her hair. “I had unfinished business.”

Clarke looked up, smile in her eyes “Oh? And what is this unfinished business? Still trying to win this competition, Commander?”

Lexa rolled her eyes, chuckling, “Among other things.”

Clarke leaned up for one last kiss, humming into Lexa’s lips, “I’ve really missed you.”

Lexa rubbed Clarke’s cheek affectionately, bringing their foreheads together. “I’ve missed you too, Clarke.” 

Lexa straightened, remembering that she had something for Clarke. “I brought you something from Tom.”

Clarke’s nose wrinkled, “From Tom? Is that allowed?”

Lexa shrugged, “This was a personal thing, so I don’t think it violates any rules if I give this back to you.” She took Clarke’s watch out of her pocket, taking in how Clarke’s breath sputtered and her eyes widened as Lexa placed the timepiece in her hands.

“My dad’s watch,” she breathed, a small puff of air appearing before each word. “Where? How? Who?”

Lexa shook her head, “I don’t know. He didn’t say. He just said he thought it would mean more coming from me.”

Clarke laughed, “Well, he’s not wrong.” Clarke shivered.

“So what do you say we get out of this freezer and go kick some ass,” Lexa said, holding her hand out to Clarke.

“Abso-freaking-lutely,” Said Clarke, sliding her hand into Lexa’s. “Lead the way. I’m right beside you.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic will update twice a week (I hope). The plan is to post on Sundays and Wednesdays. Follow me on Tumblr @TvandTalkies (https://www.tumblr.com/blog/tvandtalkies )
> 
> This work is also unbetaed. I apologize for any errors.


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